


The Living Legend is an Embarrassing Idiot, Except When He's Not

by Ceile



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Because Yurio's got a swearing problem, Gen, Not an OT3, POV Yuri Plisetsky, Podium Family, Profanity, Why do I bother to tag?, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 11:15:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17344292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceile/pseuds/Ceile
Summary: Victor annoys Yuri.  Yuri swears at Victor.  Victor annoys Yuri again.  That's how it usually goes, and Yuri thinks Victor is an Embarrassing Idiot.Until he isn't.Maybe Victor isn't that bad.Maybe Victor isn't an Idiot at all.





	The Living Legend is an Embarrassing Idiot, Except When He's Not

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for stopping by this little Yurio story. It is part of the same fan-verse as my other works, but can stand alone. Probably. Thank you for giving it a chance; I do hope you enjoy it.  
> ~C

At sixteen years old, shy of seventeen by two weeks, Yuri Plisetsky has come to accept a number of certain things as truth. 

 

As he pulls out the box of “secret stash” junk food from that inconspicuous shelf and lounges on his back on his bed, his cat immediately moving to curl up nearby, he decides that there are quite a few things now that he just  _ knows _ .

 

The first thing Yuri knows is that there are no better pirozhki than the ones his Grandpa makes.  That’s a truth everyone can agree with, and, if they don’t, there is something wrong with  _ them _ , and not with the pirozhki.

 

When the purring feline turns over to find just the right spot near him, but not  _ on _ him, he knows that there is no better pet than a cat.  They aren’t sappy like dogs, and they play by their own rules.  Yuri likes that about cats, and he can’t figure out why a lot of people he knows are  _ dog _ people.  Again, there is something wrong with  _ them _ , and definitely not with cats.   Dog people, especially  _ poodle owner _ s, please get a fucking clue and take note: cats are the  _ shit. _

 

Yuri Plisetsky also knows that Mila gets on his nerves every damn day as she tracks his physical growth, or lack thereof, by a measure of “Can I still lift you over my head today, Yuri?”  The truth is, she’s annoying and he hates her for being annoying. 

 

Except when he doesn’t.  

 

Except when he wants her to check his hand position and leg extension before Lilia Baranovskaya shows up to yell at him for it, and because he’s noticed that the rink is kind of boring when she’s competing somewhere and she isn’t there.  She hasn’t quite been elevated to any particular standing in his mind beyond tolerable rinkmate; she’s only very  _ slightly _ above “Mr.-still-pining-for-Anya-so-much-his-new-chick-almost-dumped-him-until-he-unfollowed-Anya’s-Instagram” Georgi Popovich.  Yuri’s not sure if Mila Babicheva is a friend-by-default, or if she’s an unwanted older sister. But, even if it threatens to make him barf to admit it even within his own head, he knows that Mila is important to him.  

 

And, it’s not like Yuri doesn’t have friends.  He does. Okay, he has  _ one _ friend who’s not a rinkmate.  Otabek Altin is his friend who lives in the same bubble of elite athletes as he, but who at the same time manages to be removed from it.  Yuri would like to know how he does that, how he somehow manages not to get sucked in by the ridiculous whims of all the various drama queens that are pervasive in the sport.  Otabek wasn’t in Russia, he wasn’t in Japan. He was in Almaty, soldiering on to be the best he could be. On the ice, Yuri has to admit that he poses a real threat, especially once these damn geezers start retiring already.  But, that didn’t matter really because, off the ice, Otabek is exactly what Yuri needs: a break from his stupid Russians-plus-one-Japanese rinkmates.

 

Yuri Plisetsky knows that Otabek is amazingly  _ sane _ .  He’s straightforward in all things, including his skating; he never gives up, but he often manages to  _ give _ without so much as saying a single word.  Otabek  _ listens _ , and that’s why Yuri knows he made the right decision to hop on the back of that motorcycle that day, leaving his relentless fans in their dust.  When Otabek actually talks, Yuri has noticed that he doesn’t mind listening either. 

 

Yuri stretches for a moment, the action rustling the soft, cheetah print sheets he managed to find and buy online from  _ maybe _ a not totally legit website.  So what if they were purple? So what if they were a little bit too big for his small dorm room bed so his bed looked perpetually wrinkly and slept-in even when he wasn’t there?  

 

Cheetah print is The Shit.  

 

Tiger print is also nice; his duvet cover sporting the stripes of his other-favorite big cat, and he thinks that all fabrics that don’t have some kind of cat print on them should just be burned already.  He curls up in a manner much like his own housecat and shakes the snack-box; judging by the weight, it’s almost time to sneak out to the nearest convenience store to replenish his stock. His pet responds to the shaking sound with a look that screams “What the hell, dude?! I’m sleeping here!”, and Yuri rewards the feline by reaching to his bookshelf again for the cylindrical container of chicken flavored cat treats and gives that one a shake as well.  Immediately, the look in his cat’s eyes changes as if to say, “But if it’s  _ treats _ you’re offering, I suppose you are forgiven….”  He shakes out a couple of treats and immediately forgiveness is granted.  Yuri’s still in charge, because, as awesome as cats are, the human part of the equation still possesses the much maligned opposable thumb.

 

There are plenty of things Yuri Plisetsky knows, and the list has grown a lot since he moved up from the Junior division.  He knows that this season was tough and it was almost over; there were only two remaining competitions for him this year, and all the major ones were done.  Victor came back mid-season the previous year, and he and The Pig and the Ice Tiger have been snagging podiums ever since, pissing off their fellow competitors sometimes along the way. 

 

When The Pig won his first Gold at Worlds a few weeks back, Yuri thought Victor was going to shit fucking rainbows and unicorns from the second level of the podium.  He barely acknowledged his own silver medal and ignored Yuri completely, leaving him to sulk over getting the bronze all the way back to St. Petersburg. At least, Yuri hoped, Victor would finally stop yapping to Yuuri about being “always the Bridesmaid and never the Bride” every time he won a Silver.  What the hell kind of Idiot Coach says stupid shit like that? For some reason, though, it seemed to motivate The Pig, and, eventually, Victor got to kiss that gold medal just like he’d apparently promised he would. On international television. On the  _ goddamn podium _ , of course, because, well, it’s  _ Victor _ .

 

Yuri knows he’s an Embarrassing Idiot.

 

At the banquet that night, Victor wouldn’t shut up about reminding The Pig about their engagement rings, and what was supposed to happen once he won a gold medal.  Even Yuuri himself didn’t really want to go there in front of everyone; he hadn’t had much to drink that time after all, and Yuri remembered thinking to himself that he sort of felt bad for Katsudon.  No matter what the skater from Japan did to try and back pedal and play it off, Victor made sure everyone at their table knew about their little engagement arrangement from Barcelona the season before. 

 

Yuri also remembered thinking how hilarious it would be to find out that The Pig was holding out on Victor all this time to make him wait to start fucking him until he actually won gold or, even more hilarious, that he’d make him wait until they actually did find some place on this planet that would allow them to actually get married before he would give up his ass.  It would be hilarious to know that Katsudon was keeping his boyfriend well and truly frustrated, but Yuri really wasn’t sure what their actual “status” was because they were already damn gross just in general, and he  _ really _ didn’t want to know what they actually  _ did _ together because he really didn’t want to puke.  He was 75% percent sure he wasn’t hearing their sex noises from his side of their shared hotel room wall at this season’s Four Continents when something woke him in the middle of the night from a deep and dreamless slumber.  He was 75% sure he didn’t hear The Pig shushing “Vitya” for being too loud. He was 75% sure that there was another likely explanation: probably that they were drinking. Probably. Or watching Poodles Doing Poodle Things videos on YouTube.  Probably.

 

Yuri knew he was 100% in Denial that he heard Victor Nikiforov begging in Russian for Katsuki Yuuri to fuck him harder.

 

It was only a dream, or, rather, it was only a nightmare.  That was his story, and he was sticking to it. As far as he actually knew, he had no fucking clue and he also knew he wasn’t supposed to give a shit.  It was their gross business and it wasn’t their fault that the competition organizers put his room next to theirs. In fairness, he knew the lovebirds didn’t like the arrangement either, and he knew Victor was sulking for a while when he learned that there were no rooms available for him to upgrade.  Because if Yuri knows anything about Victor Nikiforov that is _not_ _his sex noises_ , he knows he’s high fucking maintenance and hates flying coach and hates standard hotel rooms even more.

 

So, unfortunately, as hilarious as it would be to find out the The Pig was this naive little bashful blushing virgin this whole time, Yuri found it hard to believe that Victor would go along with it for this long, and the hotel at the Four Continents didn’t help to disprove that, despite his 100% Denial and 75% assuredness that he didn’t hear what he thought he was hearing.  He’s seen enough drunk Instagram posts from the Living Legend and from Christophe Giacometti to assume that Victor was not some similar blushing virgin before The Pig came into the picture. Not when a couple of years ago Yakov sometimes got a late-night call at the end of an event to go collect him from a nightclub, and Yuri could hear the yelling through the hotel room walls when they got back.  Whenever Yakov had to deal with Victor’s nightlife shenanigans back home, he’d bring him back to the dorms instead of his own apartment as sort of a punishment, Yuri supposed. 

 

Every once in a while, the young Yuri Plisetsky would be awakened from sleep  in his own room at the dorm listening to exasperated scolding from Yakov to “Vitya” too; at the time he didn’t understand the full meaning of what he heard, but now that he was older, he had definitely figured out what it was all about.

 

On one particularly notable occasion when he was 13, Yuri overheard Yakov freaking out because Victor had managed to literally lose his shirt and apparently had some souvenir hickeys to show for the effort.  Yuri had felt his own jaw drop to hear the word “hickey” come out of the coach’s mouth, but he definitely heard it. And he heard Victor’s slurred reply too: “But, Yakov, you know I can’t resist beautiful things!  And he was  _ beautiful _ let me tell you…”.   And then something heavy was thrown, likely a table knocked over because Yakov got pissed.  The heavy sound was immediately followed by a very angry coach telling his Vitya to “Sober up!  Stop going to places like that thinking these... _ men _ will give a shit about you when all they will do is sell the story to a tabloid!!”  and “Don’t forget what you represent!” That one was always followed by a silence louder than the words, and Yakov would storm out and slam the door behind him.  Yuri wondered why Yakov put up with it; he was a much-revered coach. Even if he dropped a champion like Victor from his roster, he’d be well within his rights to do it.  

 

But “Vitya” brought back a ton of hardware for the Motherland, so, there was that, Yuri supposed.  

 

Victor was no saint.  He was probably not a slut in the biblical sense, Yuri’s recent 100% Denial from the Four Continents aside, but he sometimes pretended he was just for kicks, and to give the tabloids some fake news to spread in their gossip rags.  Who even does that?

 

But that all stopped after that stupid banquet in Sochi.  Victor didn’t get scolded much in the months that followed, in fact, Yuri noticed that he was downright  _ subdued _ at times, and all he would do was practice that damn sappy free skate of his looking like a kicked puppy half the time he was doing it.  He hadn’t even done his fake-boyfriend schtick with Chris since then. 

 

And then that Idiot saw that video,  went to Japan, and, before Yuri knew it, Vitya had himself a Pig to go along with his stupid poodle. He didn’t  _ totally _ change after becoming The Pig’s coach, but some things did.

 

Victor was  _ happier  _ last season when he was only a coach.  And Yuri knows it. 

 

Yuri also knows that Victor Nikiforov is a fucking  _ flake _ .  He’s ditzy.  He’s kind of stupid, or, he acts like he is until he is choreographing a program, or lecturing about sloppy step sequences or something or other, or he whips out some quote from some dead philosopher from fucking Tsarist Russia, waxing poetic as though he imagined himself to be some long-lost Romanov descendant.  And, Yuri cedes, there is the fact that he’s fluent in three different languages, and quickly on the way to making Japanese the fourth.

 

Okay, so maybe Victor’s not stupid  _ per se _ , he’s just an Embarrassing  _ Idiot _ .  

 

He’s a  _ geezer _ .  And he’s so god-awful smitten with The Pig that it’s fucking disgusting.  They kept their lovey shit to hugging and gross flirting at the rink, but Yuri knows, even if he doesn’t witness it personally, that Victor is probably all over him everywhere else.  Truthfully, Yuri has only actually  _ seen _ them kiss on the mouth exactly once, along with  _ everyone else in the fucking universe _ , when stupid Victor launched himself on top of The Pig sending them both onto the ice in China, planting a big one on The Pig’s face as they fell.  After the urge to vomit subsided, all Yuri could think was: Can’t. Unsee.

 

But, sometimes, Victor isn’t the Victor he knows.  Sometimes he’s not a flake at all. 

 

Sometimes, he’s not an Embarrassing Idiot.

 

Sometimes he’s a downright  _ asshole _ .  Sometimes he’s so fake that Yuri swears that the man has a separate face that he puts on and takes off like some people do with contact lenses.  Yuri’s never seen a member of Victor’s family, and no one asks the man about it and, for all that Victor tends to be chatty, he doesn’t ever talk about that.  It’s sort of like an unspoken rule around the rink, but, since Victor’s been there for so fucking long that, aside from Yakov, probably only the similarly-ancient Georgi really knows how that rule came to be.  Yuri doubts that Georgi would be the gatekeeper to all of Victor’s secrets, though, so Yuri goes along with the other skaters and leaves it alone, just like none of them comment even though they’ve all overheard the occasional late-night shouting matches when Victor used to misbehave.

 

That’s not to say that the Russian Ice Tiger, like any other feline, isn’t  _ curious  _ about Victor.  He is. He really is.

 

Back when he was still in Juniors, Yuri, like a lot of people, was fascinated by that silver hair, even if he didn’t want to admit it.  But, even though he was young, he wasn’t fucking stupid; there was no way that shit was real. So Yuri had the notion that Victor has probably dyed his hair silver since he was a kid, just to have a little trademark thing.  Yuri snuck around the locker room, even weaseled his way into Victor’s apartment once or twice and peeked in his medicine cabinet and shower to see, until the lack of evidence made Yuri conclude that he didn’t dye it at home.  He even just “casually” remarked he also needed a haircut when Victor mentioned he was going to get his done, and could he possibly get an appointment, too?, and when Victor agreed to take him along, and the stylist simply cut his and then Victor’s  hair and they didn’t discuss dye jobs at all, Yuri was forced to conclude that it really was naturally that color. Over the last couple of years, he has convinced himself that Victor is probably the product of some weird inbreeding of some sort, but Yuri does know better than to actually  _ ask _ the Living Legend.  What sort of sick twist of genetics caused a kid to be born with hair like an old man?   Yuri ultimately decides that he isn’t sure he wants to know, and, given that cats and curiosity don’t always get along, he supposes the unspoken rule about never asking Victor about anything with regard to his family is probably a good one to follow.

 

He hates to admit it, but he knows Victor is dedicated.  That guy is there even when Yuri tries to be early for his own time slot to get a few extra minutes of ice time, and he’s there so early Yakov doesn’t even bother to really coach him but for his last few minutes on the ice before any others start to show up.  He was there once when the power went out in the rink, and he just skated in the dark as if the music that was playing over the PA system never stopped, the moonlight outside making the ice glow to match the silver of his hair as he put himself through the paces of his practice.  

 

And the rest of the skaters could only watch him, the pull of his graceful lines in shadow creating a gravity around the story he was telling on the ice, where even the moon was forced to obey by setting the ethereal mood for the tale.

 

Yuri was only thirteen, but he wasn’t stupid.  That practice in the dark was a shock to his Junior Division system,  and he became acutely aware of the reason why Victor had won so many medals, and, when the lights flickered back on, the spell lingered for a few moments more when none of the rinkmates could barely breathe before they finally got around to the business of getting on the ice themselves.

 

And it was at that moment that Victor left for the day, saying nothing but a fake-cheerful goodbye and he was gone before the younger Yuri could ask him how he did that so he could learn to eventually do it  _ better. _

 

The truth is, Yuri knows that Victor just  _ skates _ .  He’s been doing it forever since he’s so old, and it pissed Yuri off so much when he told Yakov at the Barcelona Grand Prix Final that he was coming back mid-season.  Yuri even went so far as to ask if The Pig was retiring, and he was sort of shocked toward Victor’s answer that Katsudon was waiting for the end of the Final to decide.  Yuri wanted to punch him right in the face, but, instead, he got one of Victor’s stupid hugs. 

 

And the silver-haired freak didn’t say anything more.  He didn’t say a goddamn thing.

 

He didn’t have to:  message received. It was like Victor was asking him without words to skate a program that would make sure The Pig would not retire. No, not asking.   _ Begging _ . Something happened, and, somewhere along the line, Victor decided to come back to competition, and he wanted Yuuri to stay on as well.  What a crock. Didn’t these geezers get it? Victor was fucking  _ ancient _ , and The Pig was no spring chicken either.  

 

Maybe Victor was pissed that his records were broken, maybe he and his boyfriend-slash-student argued about something.  He didn’t know, but something inside Yuri was downright angry. How  _ dare _ The Pig retire, just because he broke Victor’s record?  After all Victor had done for him, he was just going to skate off into the sunset with one record and leave Victor behind?  Yuri thought that was pretty cold, and, talk about mixed messages! Wasn’t Katsudon like totally in gross, mushy love with Victor too?  Most of the time, he sure didn’t seem to mind Victor cuddling him like a child with a favorite teddy bear. What the hell was The Pig thinking?  And then, with Victor coming back, Yuri suddenly found more motivation to show the world that it was time for a new generation of Russian supremacy on the ice.  His generation. Him.  _ Not _ Victor.

 

At the time, he thought, he would deal with Victor at Nationals, show him that he was no longer  the top skater in Russia, but, he could definitely send his own message to The Pig with his own free skate to make that fatso regret ever having had the thought to retire.  If Katsudon wanted a fucking GPF Gold, he’d have to pry it out of Yuri Plisetsky’s cold dead hands.

 

After the medal ceremony, when the crash inevitably came from the release of all the adrenaline, Yuri stared at the ceiling of his hotel room and thought about that silent hug.  It had startled him. He felt… _.loved _ in that moment,   _ entrusted _ to take on that all-important task of skating a program to keep The Pig around for one more year so that they could compete against each other for one more season.  It was almost as though the Agape Victor created for him was more than just a program. 

 

It was that feeling, just as Victor had declared in the practices leading up to the Onsen On Ice show, and there weren’t any words to describe it. It felt real, and it was jarring to feel something so real from a guy who was a master at being so fucking fake to the rest of the world.

 

And that hug wasn’t the first time, either.  And it hadn’t been the last. It was kind of embarrassing-slash-creepy, but, for some reason, Yuri didn’t think of it as wrong either.  

 

When there were moments like that with the older skater, moments without him spouting off on some ridiculous non sequitur, or proselytizing over how amazing Katsuki Yuuri  is to anyone who would listen, Yuri knows that Victor can  _ sometimes _ be...okay.  When he’s not being an Embarrassing Idiot. Or extra. Or an asshole who grabs him by the face. Or fake. Or flirting with The Pig. 

 

Once Yuuri moved to St. Petersburg, Victor was disgustingly happy.  Yuri had been somewhat correct on that seawall in Barcelona; there were parts of Victor Nikiforov that were dead.  He was no longer an eligible bachelor, and even most of his fans were all supportive and shit about The Pig. He still drank all night sometimes like a total dumbass, but, as far as Yuri knew,  Yakov hadn’t had to drag him out of a bar or a club in a couple of years now either.

 

After about a month or so into the off season last summer, they settled into this sort of stupid-lovey-dovey bliss that made Yuri want to gag himself.  Before that, however, there were days when it was clear that the pair were still adjusting; Victor’s fake-smile was in full employ, and there were days when The Pig seemed like he wasn’t fully “with it”.   It came to a head one afternoon at the rink when, seemingly out of nowhere during an off-season practice session, Yuuri told Victor he wanted to visit his friend Phichit in Bangkok for a couple of weeks. Yuri saw Victor just stare at him, as if he was waiting for an invitation.  A few minutes of hushed conversation passed, and then Yuri saw the fake-smile come back, and Victor encouraged The Pig to go. 

 

Yuuri immediately took out his phone and could be seen chatting with Phichit and making his reservations on the other side of the boards as he took off his skates while Victor remained on the ice with a pissed-off face, and he looked like he was drilling himself to death with power-skate stroking and a series of jumps.  

 

The next thing Yuri knew, The Pig hopped a plane and, within a day or so, Victor took off like a train wreck to go cry on Chris’s shoulder in Switzerland.  Yuri thought it was so stupid to act like that; couldn’t Victor get over himself to let The Pig have a little break from being cuddled and fawned over and living with him?  Yuri would never want to put himself in a situation where he’d have to live with that guy. No. He returned almost as soon as he’d left, though, and he managed to pull himself together.  Apparently even Chris could get tired of Victor’s bullshit, and apparently Victor figured out that he shouldn’t get so huffy about Yuuri having his own friend.

 

As the months went by and the season began again, it looked as though those idiots had figured out a few things; Victor was  _ slightly _ less clingy and The Pig was panicky or sullen  _ slightly _ less often.  Whatever those fools were doing, Yuri supposed they were finally doing it right.  They were still stupid and gross, though.

 

Yuri heard his Instagram notification go off, and it looked as though the dorks in love were at it again; they were taking pictures of themselves and their stupid dog and...what’s that?  Matching sweaters?! Even for the goddamn dog?!

 

Fucking dorks.  Did they even  _ understand _ how embarrassing they could be? Even The Pig looked a little unsure in the photos, but, then again, that  was sort of usual for him, but  _ still. _   What poor innocent bystander did Victor harass into taking those goddamn pictures?  And what was up with the hashtags?! 

 

#FamilyCouture!! #DoYouWantOneToo? #Poodles #y-Katsuki #FromRussiaWithLove!<3  

 

The fuck. Seriously Victor?! Even if his first instinct was to throw his phone against the wall, Yuri just couldn’t resist texting Victor.

 

“Matching fugly sweaters now, Geezer?! Stop spamming my Instagram with this stupid  _ dogshit _ !  Go to hell, Idiots!”  Send.

 

There.  That’ll work.

 

Ding.

 

Shit.  Victor responded already.  

 

“I’m touched that you noticed!  We bought one for you too,  _ Yurio _ , so we’ll see you at the apartment later for Katsudon Night and you can try it on!   (｡－‿ ◕｡)  *smooches* *hugs* <3<3<3!” 

 

This. Guy.

 

“Fuck you!”  Send.

 

Ding.  “Sorry, I’m taken! <3”

 

Asshole.

 

“You’re fucking gross!” Send.

 

Ding.  “See you at 6?”

 

Yuri sighed.  Shit. “Yeah. See you.”  Send.

 

God-damn it.  Even if they were fucking stupid, it wasn’t worth giving up his monthly Katsudon Night.  That shit really was delicious, and The Pig had gotten really good at making it almost as good as his mom’s,  and he wasn’t going to let the stupid antics of those Idiots get in his way of enjoying it.

 

Maybe he should just unfollow them, or, rather, unfollow  _ Victor _ because Yuuri rarely posted things on his own, and it seemed like all of Katsudon’s fans were just following Victor’s social media anyway to get their glimpses of their favorite Japanese skater vicariously through his stupid airhead Russian boyfriend.

 

Yuri hates to admit it, but he knows he  _ sort of _ doesn’t mind having The Pig around.  And, he sort of doesn't mind getting invited to their apartment sometimes. 

 

And he sort of wishes that Victor would just let him crash there sometimes instead of bringing him back to the dorm or back to Lilia's, because The Pig was good at making breakfast too, or so he has heard since Victor was always saying how vkusno it was.

 

Katsuki Yuuri was sometimes... _okay_ too.  And Yuri, thanks to his 100% Denial, can still, mostly,  look at him the same way he did before he _did not hear_ _Victor begging for his dick_.

 

It was irritating having to share the rink with him at practice, but it was helpful too.  Yuri took special delight in having so much opportunity to scout the Japanese skater’s weaknesses and punish him for every single one of them by beating him in competition whenever possible.

 

Of course, he didn’t beat him all the time, and he hadn’t beaten Victor yet at all.  It sucked that the Geezer was still so damn good; only his own student had managed to beat him this season, and Yuri could tell that some of the other skaters in their circle were kind of demoralized with Victor back.  Yuri also hated to admit that The Pig was a threat in his own right as well, and he had to stay focused to beat him. Even Otabek admired Katsuki Yuuri, despite how different their skating styles were, and he was notorious about not making comments on other skaters.  Well, other than Yuri himself. It made Yuri sort of happy that he didn’t gush over Victor, but it always soured a bit when he’d grunt a compliment about The Pig. 

 

Otabek told him straight up to get over it, though, and Yuri figured he should. 

 

He glanced at the time; he had about three hours before Victor would pick him up in his car to go to the Palace of Idiots for Katsudon Night, plenty of time to have a little bite to tide him over.  It was their monthly “cheat night” from their carefully designed nutritional plan, and all three of them made sure they watched their caloric intake for several days leading up to it. For all that the Pork Cutlet Bowl was delicious, the caloric cost was astronomical; Yuri had calculated that he could eat two burgers at McDonald’s and he’d still arrive at fewer calories than the 900 boasted by the Pork Cutlet Bowl.  And supposedly Japanese people ate healthy and lived for like forever because of it! It must be a cheat night dish for them too, he surmised, either that, or their supposed healthy diet was some unfounded stereotype he’d picked up from somewhere along the way.

 

He opens the snack-box and looks for that bag of cheap, artificial-tasting candy he has been able to acquire in St. Petersburg by way of care packages lovingly sent to Katsuki Yuuri from his family in Japan.  He wonders if Victor and The Pig know how happy it makes him to see that there is always a bag of it specifically for him inside, with “Yurio <3” on the tag to make sure only he would eat it. He hopes they don’t know, because he makes a point to complain every time he sees his stupid nickname on the little piece of card-stock that’s always carefully tucked into a ribbon tied around the glassine bag of treats.  

 

The truth is, he loves that candy.

 

And, somehow, truthfully, he  _ knows _ that the whole Katsuki clan of family and friends knows he does.

 

Those two truths don’t bother him, and being called Yurio doesn’t really bother him either, though he’d go to his grave swearing that he hates it.

 

He ate two pieces of candy and decided to take a nap.  He was about to put his headphones on when his phone alerted him to a text.  He could feel his lips curling into a grin as he read the text: “Don’t eat too much.  Have fun with V&Y.”

 

“I will.  What are you doing?  Want to FaceTime?” Send.

 

Those three dots seemed to display on the screen of his phone forever before Otabek responded.  “Give me a sec. Gotta put the bike away.”

 

The chirping sound of the FaceTime tone arrived, and Yuri accepted the call. “Hi.”

 

“Hi.  What time is Victor picking you up?”

 

“In a few hours.  Get this: he told me the other day that it was my turn to pick the movie for ‘family movie night’.  Does he  _ have _ to call it that?  How friggin’ embarrassing!  They make me want to barf!”

 

“So what movie did you pick?”  Otabek asked calmly.

 

“Well actually, I sort of missed the boat on Harry Potter and-”

 

He stopped himself short as he saw the slight smile cross the stoic face of his friend.

 

Shit.  Damn. What the hell was he doing?  He really didn’t want to admit that he was looking forward to fucking  _ family movie night _ .  Damn it.  

 

“Uh, what I mean to say is, I don’t care what movie we watch so I just picked whatever came to mind, you know?”

 

“Uh-huh,” came a thankfully neutral-sounding response.  

 

“And I had to pick something that wasn’t some mushy old black and white stupid ‘art film’ like Victor always does.  Seriously; he likes the worst shit.”

 

“I see.  So you think child-wizardry would be more to his taste?”

 

“Hah!  Hell if I care.  My choice, and that’s what I want to watch,” he grumbled.  “Besides, what The Pig picks is even worse! He breaks out these cheesy Japanese movies with subtitles and they suck and they are weird and they always take place in a high school. But when I said ‘why don’t you pick a horror movie? Japan’s got some really messed up shit,’ he was all like ‘those are all R18 and we can’t watch that’, acting like he’s my mom or something.”

 

“I see.”  Otabek looked slightly amused.  

 

Oh shit.

 

Did he really just say that The Pig was like his  _ mom _ for crying out loud?!  Was their dorkiness rubbing off on him?  How could he recover? He didn’t want his friend to think he was some juvenile who needed a Pig to mother him, or, worse, that he needed the Pig’s Idiot Boyfriend to get any more ideas about being his  _ Dad _ .  The last time Victor made that awful joke, Yuri had felt like popping him one right in the kisser.

 

“I’m pretty sure it’s just because horror movies probably scare the pants off of him,” he hurriedly explained, hoping that Otabek would buy it.   “And then that would be gross because then Victor would get all mushy and bllllahhhh…!” he retorted back to the semi-smiling face on the screen.

 

“So what you’re really saying is that you are looking forward to it.”

 

“Uh…”  Shit. Danger!  He didn’t mean to falter again; what the hell was up with him today?  Did seeing the ugly sweaters kill some key brain cells or something? Damn it Otabek!  Why did he have to be so perceptive?!

 

“No, I’m just doing it for them,” Yuri quickly supplied, looking away a little to reach for his drink with hopes that his face didn’t look like it was as hot as it was feeling.   No. He’s got this. He shook it off with a quick shake of his head and a sip from the juice box that provided the timely rescue. “They are like lonely Geezers and they probably get sick of being ‘just them’ sometimes.  I’m just putting up with it so they can feel better about themselves.”

 

“And, there’s katsudon to eat.”

 

“Y-yeah.  There’s that.”

 

“I wouldn’t mind trying that sometime.”

 

Yuri looked toward the face in his phone.  “Then just come over here for a visit and rescue me from these dorky-pseudo-parents-I-never-wanted,” he said quietly.

 

Otabek did not waver in his gaze.  “You know I can’t do that right now,” he explained patiently.  For the umpteenth time. 

 

“Why not?  We’re friends, right?”

 

“Yes, we are.  But I just can’t jump a plane on a whim.  I’m training.”

 

“Helllooo, newsflash, we do have a  _ rink _ here,” Yuri replied with a snort.  “I don’t get why it’s such a big deal.”

 

“And I don’t get why you can’t wait a few more weeks for the off-season.  That way, it can be a vacation.”

 

“But I can’t go out of the country without a-…”  Damn.  _ Damn! _

 

Otabek patiently waited for him to finish.  Damn it, he was going to make him say it!

 

“Fine.  I can’t go without a  _ chaperone _ .”  There.  He said it.  The word rolling off his tongue was like the most bitter tasting of medicines.  

 

“Ah.  Well that is a problem then.  I suppose Yakov still hasn’t quite let you off the hook for hopping a plane to Japan by yourself last year without his permission.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Yuri felt his gaze drift slightly back to the snack box.  Even though Otabek had told him many times that he didn’t have a travel allowance that would cover any non-skating trips, Yuri still didn’t like it.  Even though his friend had told him he wouldn’t mind taking a vacation, he also told him he couldn’t come to Russia unless it was to train or compete because of some bullshit about visas and whatever, so they would have to meet elsewhere, and Yuri couldn’t go without an adult.    Yuri still didn’t like that either.

 

“If only there were people you knew,”  Otabek mused aloud,with a tone that Yuri recognized as playful, or, as playful as Otabek ever got,  “people who were living in St. Petersburg with you, who actually enjoy spending time with you, who feed you Pork Cutlet Bowls and will watch a Harry Potter movie with you, who you could ask if they would be willing to take an off-season trip somewhere so you could hang out with your friend.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

Otabek exhaled.  “I don’t see what the big deal is.  The worst they could say is ‘no’.”

 

Yuri rolled his eyes.  “I’m not voluntarily going to go with _ them _ anywhere.”

 

“Except back to their house to watch movies and eat home cooking from Japan.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

Another half-smile greeted him from the screen on the phone.  Yuri could see in the background that there was another stack of CDs and vinyl records on a table.  His friend had an ever-expanding collection of music and Yuri had learned that he edited and mixed the music for his programs himself.  It was so fucking cool.

 

“Then just ask Yakov,” Otabek declared.

 

“No way!  I don’t have a death wish.”

 

“How about Mila?”

 

“ _ No _ .  She’s got another hockey player she’s hooking up with.”

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

“Yeah.  His name is Alexei too just like the last one!  Can you believe that? It’s like all hockey players are either named Alexei or Sergei for some reason.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

Yuri studied the face of his friend.  God, he did miss having Otabek around in person.  He really wanted to meet up with him and hang out somewhere; he didn’t care what country, what time zone, what anything.  They didn’t get to see each other enough during the season and it sucked. If Victor hadn’t dropped everything and flown to Japan to go Pig hunting, he’d have never had to go to Japan either, and Yakov would not be so touchy about letting him take a trip.

 

So, as usual, it was all Victor’s fault.

 

“All right,”  Yuri relented quietly.  “I’ll ask  _ them _ .”

 

He looked at the screen again, searching for the slightest nuance in his stoic friend’s expression.  Wait for it….wait for it….there! 

 

Otabek smiled.

 

And, reflexively, Yuri smiled too.

 

“Are you going to ask them tonight?”

 

Yuri thought about that; why the hell not?  It wasn’t like they would keep him from eating his Pork Cutlet Bowl even if they said no.  

 

“Yeah, I can I guess.  I’ll see what they say...but do you really want  _ them _ around when we’re supposed to be hanging out?”

 

Otabek chuckled once.  “You really do talk about them like they are in their fifties.  Last time I checked, they are still in their twenties; I’m sure there will be things we want to do and they won’t and vice-versa.   They’ll give us space to have a little fun. ”

 

Yuri almost spewed out the juice he was sipping from the straw of the juice box.  “How can you even say that with a straight face?! Give us  _ space _ ?  You  _ do _ know Victor, right?” 

 

Otabek shrugged.  “I suppose; but he only has eyes for Katsuki, so we should be fine.  I don’t see anything wrong with how they are together if they’re all right with it themselves.”

 

The gagging sound that Yuri emitted was reflexive also, along with the obligatory eye-roll.  “You are so diplomatic.”

 

“Honestly, I-”  Otabek began, but interrupted himself.  “Nevermind.”

 

Yuri studied his friend again; it was unlike him to look away, even for the split second he did.  “What were you going to say?”

 

“Oh, well, I just remembered when we were all at dinner together in Spain and we saw the rings.  When Phichit started congratulating them on getting married, I thought it was sort of cool.”

 

_ “Huuuh?!” _

 

Otabek only shrugged.   “Of course, we know now they didn’t actually get married then, but I thought it was worth at least sharing congratulations.”

 

“I guess,”  Yuri grumped.  “Stupid dorks.”

 

“What I mean is, some people are good together when they are similar, but it doesn’t have to be like that, so I thought it was cool in that way.  Even if they are very different, it seems to work, right?”

 

“Oh you mean like how Victor is extra and The Pig is sometimes kind of low-key-annoyed-but-mushy-anyway?”

 

A little exhalation.  “You really shouldn’t keep calling him that.”

 

Yuri knows that, but, it wasn’t his fucking fault they had the same name.  He had to suffer with Yurio, so The Pig could stay The Pig. “He knows I don’t mean it as an insult.”

 

Otabek considered.  “Are you sure?”

 

“Of course I’m sure!  Otherwise, he wouldn’t let me do it, would he?”

 

Otabek didn’t seem convinced.  Shit.

 

“I...respect him, okay?  There. I said it. I. Respect. The. Pig.  And if you ever tell him I said that I will make you bleed,” he said quietly.

 

“You could try,” his friend replied with that barely-there smirk that said he understood.  Good. This was why Otabek was so cool; Yuri didn’t have to worry about any sort of judgement with him, but he was also brutal in his honesty.  

 

And Yuri needed that, and he did have some maturity in him somewhere that told him he did.  “I’ll ask them about taking a vacation,” he declared firmly.

 

Otabek nodded.  “Let me know what they say, and, I guess, think about where you might want to go?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Okay; I’m gonna go now, Yuri.  I’ll be in touch soon.”

 

“All right.”

 

He closed the connection and plugged his phone into the charger and reached for his headphones.  The cat jumped off the bed in response to the movement and Yuri sprawled out. The next thing he knew, his phone was vibrating next to his cheek.  He opened one eye to see that he had received a text from Victor: “Be there in twenty! Just out getting a bottle for our dinner so you can help me make Yuuri drink it! ;)”

 

“Fuck no.”  Send.

 

Shit.  He didn’t intend to sleep that much, and he  _ really _ didn’t want to get roped into helping Victor get Yuuri drunk so that he could make more sex noises later.  No. Just... _ no _ .

 

Let the Geezer figure out how to get Yuuri to cooperate on his own damn time and not when he was only showing up for the Pork Cutlet Bowl.  And for Harry Potter. 

 

And for to ask them if they would take him on a vacation.

 

Damn.  He had to behave.

 

“Fine.  I’ll go along with your plan to get him drunk so you can kiss him all night like you want to *gags*. (--____--)”  Send.

 

Ding.  “Wow~!”

 

_ Gross. _

 

In a flash, he jumped from the bed and rushed to the bathroom for a quick shower.  He brushed his teeth, and re-dressed, throwing his still-damp hair into a ponytail before grabbing the Harry Potter blu-ray and his phone and keys.

 

He ran downstairs to the front entrance of the dorm just in time to see Victor pull up in his obnoxious silver sports car, a gift from the Russian Skating Federation after his fifth consecutive World Championship.  Bastard. When in the hell was he going to retire for good already so he could hurry up and get his own damn sports car from them?

 

Although, he’d probably be even happier if they gave him a minivan for his Grandpa to use instead of his beat up Soviet-era shitbox.

 

Victor stopped the car at the curb and Yuri could hear the sound of the electronic door lock.  He opened the passenger door and flopped down into the leather seat.

 

“Hi, Yurio.”

 

The younger grunted in reply as he wedged the Blu-ray between the seat and the console.  There was some eurotrash playing on the stereo and he could feel his eyes rolling. Seriously; Victor liked the  _ worst  _ shit.  “Can’t you listen to some decent music for once, Geezer?  Every time I get in this car it’s either classical shit or this old-school EDM crap.”

 

Victor laughed a little.  “Go ahead,” he gently relented.  

 

Yuri immediately pressed the third preset button on the satellite radio in the car, the one that Victor let him set after his second ride in the passenger seat when he complained about the elder’s choice of music.    He’d never admit it, but it made him happy that Victor kept it, even if he was pretty sure that Victor thought the hard-hitting music Yuri liked was obnoxious. 

 

“Better now?”  Victor quipped playfully.  

 

“Yeah,” he replied after a satisfied exhalation.

 

“Hold the bottle, will you?”

 

“Yeah,” he repeated.  He grabbed the bottle and held it with his knees as he twisted around to reach for the seatbelt; Victor seemed to be in a really good mood as he patiently waited for the tell-tale “click” that said his younger passenger was secured in the seat and the Cabernet was securely held before releasing the e-brake and putting the car in gear.  

 

“I hope you’re hungry,” he said as he navigated the car out into traffic.  Victor liked to drive fast, and it was sort of reckless, and Yuri sort of liked it, and The Pig definitely hated it; several of the drives taken with all three of them when Yuuri first moved to town were filled with scolding from the front passenger seat, and accompanied by the real-time Googling of traffic laws that Victor was breaking.  One time, The Pig forced Victor to pull into a parking lot just so he could be yelled at properly and Victor looked absolutely wretched after whatever it was that Yuuri said to him in Japanese. Yuri had made himself scarce by stepping into the store where they parked, but he had heard the end of the argument and Victor definitely was  _ punished. _  It was...uncomfortable, even though Victor did a really good job of faking that it wasn’t when he got back behind the wheel and dropped his boyfriend off at their apartment before resuming the drive to drop Yuri off at the dorms.

 

Sometimes Yuuri really needed to take a massive Pill of Chill, but Victor almost always gave in to him, and he had since toned the driving down for his boyfriend’s benefit as best he could,.  However, even when Yuri thought Victor was driving at a pace more similar to Yuri’s own Grandfather, The Pig would still mutter that he was a “shit driver” under his breath as soon as the car stopped.

 

When The Pig wasn’t around, though, like tonight, Victor abused the gears and clutch as he drove, the car creating a sweet revving and humming sound that clashed with the steely tin of the electric guitars and the harsh vocals playing over the speakers.  He wondered when Victor had time to learn how to drive, and he wondered if he could get him to teach him someday soon too. He wanted to learn it from Victor, no matter how much his boyfriend questioned the legality of his skills. He’d already asked Yakov if he could start learning how to drive, but the coach hadn’t dignified the question with a response.  He was pretty sure he remembered hearing about Victor sneaking around with his own older rinkmates on the sly back in the day to learn, and so Yuri figured he might have to do the same thing. He’d probably have to wait in line though; as far as he knew, The Pig had yet to learn how to drive a car and he knew that the second he voiced an interest, Yuuri would be whisked away to a Driving 101 lesson in this very car, and probably a professional instructor hired to complete the task.

 

“I’m starving.  I hope The Pig is making a big batch tonight.”

 

“He is; my Darling is slaving away over a hot stove for you even as we speak~!”

 

Yuri made an undignified snort. “He’s going to make you fat like him someday.”

 

Victor shot him a glance as the slowed to a jolt of a stop for a traffic light.  “Hmmm….I’m not planning on letting myself go just yet and, last time I checked, Yuuri is still in condition too.   I can tell you first-hand that he is  _ not _ fat.  In fact, when I put my hands-”

 

“Gross!”  Yuri interrupted hotly.  “Seriously! Do you  _ not _ understand the meaning of too much information?!”

 

Victor just laughed as he put the car in gear once again for the last leg of the short drive back to their apartment.  He turned off on a side street and turned into the lot which served his building to pull the car into his spot when he clicked his tongue in annoyance.  “Seriously, I was gone for forty-five minutes  _ tops _ and someone’s already parked in my space.”

 

Yuri scanned the lot; sure enough, it was full as usual.  Parking was a premium in St. Petersburg and it was almost a ritual that whenever Victor took his car out, some asshole would inevitably park in his reserved space because it was one of the few that was covered. Yuri also knew,  even if The Pig didn’t, that Victor paid almost as much for parking as he shelled out for the rent for his apartment for the privilege of having that covered and coveted space, so he tended to go justifiably apeshit whenever some interloper thought they could use it.  The car might have been a freebie, but paying to park it might as well have been a car loan anyway. They sat in the lot for a minute while Victor got out his phone to call the superintendent of his building. “Hello, this is Victor Nikiforov....Yes, I’m fine, but someone has taken my parking space  _ again _ and the lot is full.”  He proceeded to read off the license plate number.  “I want it towed quickly so they learn their lesson, and I am still waiting for a good answer as to why we cannot have controlled access for the obscene amount of money it costs me to have a reserved space that I can’t even use....” he added in his “i’m fucking sick of this shit “ voice, and Yuri could hear the vehement apologies coming through the phone as Victor hung up.  “Oh well,” he sighed, “time to play ‘on what side street will my car not get stolen?’ and find a spot until they tow that piece of shit.”

 

Yuri chuckled.  Victor rarely used profanity in front of him, but he got very pissed off about his parking space.  The first time they had returned from a drive to show The Pig around after he had moved to the city, he saw Katsudon stare wide-eyed as Victor went through his ritual of chewing out the super over it, in addition to being basically traumatized by the drive itself.  Yuri was pretty sure the Living Legend had not shown that particular side of himself to The Pig all that much, and the Japanese skater was sort of shaken. Yuri watched as he was desperately trying to hold back his reflexive Japanese bows in apology to the person on the other end of the phone for Victor’s tone.  It was  _ hilarious _ .  “Even if you bow and say your ‘I’m sorrys’, the guy on the phone won’t know or care,” he remembered telling The Pig.  Victor hung up at that moment and he told his partner, “This isn’t Japan, Yuuri. You don’t need to be polite to the asshole who parked in my spot nor to the building owners who are too damn stingy to at least put up a lift-gate.”

 

Yuuri sure didn’t look convinced, and Yuri remembered him telling Victor that maybe he should just keep his car in storage since they usually walked to where they needed to go on their daily routine.  Poor naive Japanese goody-two-shoes; as if a storage place would be any safer than a side street. At least if something happened to the car when it was parked where it was supposed to be, the building management would have to cover the damages which was why Victor was always such a dick about it.  He acted stupid a lot, but, there were definitely times when Yuri knew that he wasn’t, and he wasn’t naive either.

 

It was about more than just the parking, and Yuri knew it, even if The Pig didn’t.  

 

Not everyone in Russia supported their little “thing” they had going, so, for any jaunt that wasn’t within a few blocks of their home, Victor insisted on taking the car, and even that had been a disagreement between the pair.  Yuuri thought it was so wasteful to use the car for the five minute drive to the rink and Victor reluctantly compromised on walking, but Yuri could tell that he had subtly made sure by carefully planning their ice times that Yuuri rarely walked alone even in daylight and never after dark.  It wasn’t like the rink and their respective domiciles were in a shitty neighborhood, but Yuri figured all neighborhoods had certain levels of shitty; he couldn’t help but to agree with Victor on this one, which was unusual since usually he tended to side with The Pig whenever they were trying to hash something out.  In this case, though, he had sort of understood Victor’s concern; Yuuri  _ maybe _ knew fifty or so words of Russian, he couldn’t read it, and he was an obvious foreigner.  No matter how strong he was, he would have been no match for any burly Russian street thug if he caught one’s attention.  Even Victor and Yuri were small by Russian standards, so Yuri pretty much understood what Victor was trying to do without actually spelling it out for The Pig, likely to avoid him folding into an anxiety attack about living there, his mind filled with irrational “what-if” scenarios until he would hopelessly flub all his jumps.  No. Victor couldn’t have that, and, Yuri didn’t want that either. As much as it grated on his own nerves to admit it, life was mostly better in St. Petersburg with The Pig around.

 

Yuri hated agreeing with Victor on anything, but he could only imagine the world of hurt everyone would be under with him if something ever were to happen to his precious Pork Cutlet Bowl.

 

Victor maneuvered the car to parallel park into a tight space on the next street over and cut the engine.  He called the superintendent once more to charge the man with calling him the second his space was free again.  “I’m going to take one of the plastic cones from the rink and put it in the middle of my spot any time I leave. I’ve had enough of this shit,” he grumbled aloud after closing the call.

 

He shook his head quickly and then he smiled.  “Are you ready to eat?” he asked, his eyes suddenly changing to that look of genuine happiness that Yuri was getting used to.  This was not the smile as plastic as the cone from the rink he was threatening to use, but the real one that Yuri knew very few people ever saw.  

 

“Yeah.  I feel like I have a hole in my stomach.”

 

“Good!” the elder skater proclaimed, shedding his ire toward the parking space and opening the car door.  “I hope you brought a good movie!”

 

“I...it’s supposed to be good.  I just grabbed whatever,” he replied noncommittally as he opened his own door.  Victor came over to the passenger side and took the bottle of wine from his grasp.

 

“Kittens shouldn’t be carrying this in public,” he quipped with a wink.

 

“Shut up, Geezer.”  

 

The chirping noise affirmed that the car alarm was set, for all the good it would do, and the two Russian skaters made quick work of the block between the car and the entrance to the building.  As soon as they walked in, Victor was showered with a few more apologies, and the fake-smile returned briefly before they entered the elevator. His phone beeped for a text which he promptly answered.  It was probably The Pig wondering when they would be back. 

 

The pair exited the elevator and walked the short length of the corridor toward the door to Victor’s apartment.  Victor slotted his key into the lock and the door opened to the heavenly aroma of The Pork Cutlet Bowl cooking away in the kitchen.

 

Just the smell of it made Yuri’s stomach growl and Victor just chuckled toward the sound, for once not shouting it out to anyone who would listen, and they both entered the apartment.  Since his boyfriend moved in, Victor had adopted the Japanese custom of leaving shoes at the door, so now it was a rule and Yuri had to follow it too. He didn’t mind that.

 

He  _ did _ mind having to announce that he was home.  This wasn’t his home goddamnit. Why did he have to play their “we’re pretending we live in a foreign country” game?!   Why was that such a big deal? He was trying to figure that out when Victor called out the traditional “I’m home” greeting that Yuri always had trouble pronouncing anyway.  “Tadaima, Yuuri! I’ve found a lost koneko-chan!”

 

“Shut up.  I know you just called me a kitten again.  You do it so much I know the word in Japanese now, you flake!”

 

“Say it, Yurio,”  Victor prodded with that look of mischief in his eyes that definitely signaled that he knew damn well he was embarrassing as shit.

 

“Why do I have to say it?  We’re not in Japan, I don’t  _ live _ here, and that’s still not my name,”  Yuri grumbled.

 

“Come on, we’re waiting for you!”

 

“I’m not five!”

 

“Say it,”  Victor directed, this time with a pinch to the back of his elbow as Yuuri came into view.  Damn it. He’d never make it to the table to eat the food if he didn’t play along with Victor’s indulgence of his precious Pig.  He looked down at his socks, feeling embarrassed, but somehow included. It wasn’t horrible, he supposed. It’s just a word, right?  Fine.

 

“Ta-tadayma…,” he mumbled.  When it came out, he knew he still didn’t have the pronunciation quite right.  He looked up to see The Pig dressed in black yoga pants and a white t-shirt with a dish towel slung over his shoulder.  He had his glasses on and a smile as well. Yuri took quick stock of him; he was “with-it” today. That was good; it certainly bode well for the quality of the food.  “Okaeri, futaritomo,” he answered. Damn Pig. Yuri had finally managed to understand that “okaeri” was the customary response to “tadaima” but then he had to throw another word in there to mess him up all over again.  

 

“The hell does that mean,” he groaned.

 

“Welcome back, both of you,”  The Pig clarified. Okay. It wasn’t an insult, as expected from him; no matter how Yuri spoke to him, even right to his face, Yuuri never stooped to his level.  Was that being an adult? Yuri didn’t know for sure, but he knew that Yuuri was definitely the best example of an actual adult when the three of them were together.  That was also kind of scary.

 

“Yuuri, the katsudon smells delicious!”  Victor chimed in as he walked toward his partner, giving him a brief but sound squeeze on the shoulder.  “I brought the wine.”

 

“Vitya, I told you we didn’t need to have wine,” the Japanese skater responded with an eye-roll for the ages.  Yuri watched as Victor completely ignored him to brush past and head for the kitchen to reach glasses for the wine, and, of course, the “kiddie glass” for the juice they always kept on hand for Yuri’s visits.  

 

Yuri busied himself by putting the Blu-Ray on the coffee table and grabbing a magazine as he flopped down on the couch to wait for Victor to pour him his drink.  He heard them playfully banter back and forth in the kitchen, Victor whining over something stupid like why The Pig wouldn’t wear an apron and The Pig shoving him out of the way and charging him with setting the table.   Victor obediently went to the other shelf and brought out some bowls. What a schmuck. “Come on, Yurio, help earn your keep and set the table!” he cajoled.

 

Yuri hadn’t planned to get up from the couch just as obediently, but he did.  The aroma of the Pork Cutlet Bowl must surely have some hypnotic qualities because he found himself going to the drawer and getting out three sets of chopsticks and some knives and forks for good measure.  “How much longer, Pig? I’m starving over here and Victor is annoying me.”

 

“Five minutes, Yurio.”

 

“O-okay,” he replied.  Shit. He needed to be nice.  He had to ask these idiots a huge favor, and it wouldn’t help if Victor was getting him into a pissed-off mood.  Breathe. He could do this. Maybe he should wait until they had a couple of glasses of wine? But it couldn’t be too many glasses, though, because he didn’t want The Pig forgetting if he agreed to it.  He followed Victor around the table as they set their places, and Victor picked up the wine bottle and a corkscrew.

 

“Yuu~ri….I found a great Cabernet.  You’ll have some won’t you?”

 

A sigh from the kitchen was heard over the sizzling pork cutlets.  “One glass,” came the deadpan response.

 

Yuri watched as Victor smiled and worked to uncork the bottle.  He poured about a third of a glass for himself and then he put about twice that amount into The Pig’s glass.  “Subtle,” he grumped toward the silver-haired skater, and he only received a wink in response.

 

“Don’t go tattling on me,” he whispered.

 

“You. Are.  _ Gross _ .”

 

Victor let out another little laugh and took up his own glass for a sip.  “The table’s set, Yuuri,” he remarked easily over his shoulder, “can I help you with anything?”

 

“No, it’s just about ready.  The two of you should sit now,”  replied The Pig, and Yuri was onto him.  When it came to Katsudon Night, Yuuri laid total claim to the kitchen and would not allow Victor anywhere near the preparations for their favorite dish.  He probably could have used some help, but there was one time when he had allowed it and Victor got so focused on hugging Yuuri while he cooked that half of the pork cutlets were overdone and burned.  The Pig was low-key pissed for the entire night too, and Victor brought him back to the dorm early that time.

 

Victor learned right then that he needed to butt out of the kitchen when Yuuri was cooking katsudon, and he never tried to really help him again.  However, Yurio knew also that meant the he and the Geezer would be on cleanup duty. That always sucked, but it went pretty quickly since Yuuri was thankfully not a messy cook.  Apparently Victor was pretty good at making a few things too, but he also apparently made a giant mess whenever he did it. Yuri remembered hearing The Pig griping to him about being late to practice because of the mountain of dishes left after one of Victor’s forays into the kitchen, so Yuri figured that Yuuri did most of the cooking, probably for the benefit of his own sanity. 

 

Yuri sat down in his chair and took a drink of juice, his stomach threatening to growl again.  Already the table looked promising; there was a colorful salad and Yuuri had even made some other side dishes he didn’t quite know what they were, but one looked like his fried chicken.  Yum. At first he thought it was kind of gross to eat it at room temperature, but he had gotten used to it because of this brown sauce that he could squirt on it. He didn’t ask what the condiment was; his own travels had taught him that Asian people ate some pretty weird shit sometimes, so he figured that ignorance was bliss and he smothered the fried chicken with the sauce and ate it happily every time The Pig made it.

 

Victor had put on some music, lit some stupid candles on the table, and he dimmed the lights a little.  Typical; the man couldn’t resist adding “atmosphere” even though they were just in their own house. He went into the kitchen then and Yuuri gave the okay for him to help bring out the food; apparently he was used to Victor not sitting down as he was told to do.   And it also meant that the food was ready. Thank God. 

 

Out came the stupid lovebirds with platters of pork cutlet and all the trimmings.  Glorious. Yuri knew it would be delicious even before the platter was set down on the table.  Maybe the Geezer was right when he would ask over and over if this was what God ate. 

 

“Sit down, Yuuri, I’ll serve,” Victor said with an appreciative tone.  “It looks amazing!” He shot Yuri a look which seemed to say “I’m  _ waiting _ , Yurio.”  What a fucking idiot.  Victor really needed to give up this pretend-Dad schtick.  It was annoying as shit, but, Yuri’s watering mouth told him he’d better say something after all.  “ _ Dad”  _ won this round, but only because Yuri needed some very big favors.  Jerk. Had Victor sensed that he wanted something? No. Not possible.  Or, at least Yuri didn’t think so.

 

“Y-yeah, it looks really good.  I’m starving.” His response seemed to please Victor way too much, his blue eyes glittering with cheer.  What a  _ dork _ .

 

“Thanks, Yurio, make sure you eat a lot, okay?”  The Pig returned as Victor placed the wine glass in his hand as he spoke.  He looked at the glass in his hand with a frown. “Victor, isn’t there a little too much in this glass?”

 

“Oh?  I don’t think so,” Victor commented casually as he finally reached for Yuri’s bowl to place the food inside.  This Geezer needed to hurry the hell up and fill that damn bowl already.

 

Yuri had the Pork Cutlet Bowl in front of him in all its pan-fried glory; the rice was always cooked perfectly too.  He had sworn Georgi to secrecy, but Yuri had attempted to make it once at the dorm kitchen and it was a complete disaster.  The rice was so wet it was like glue and the eggs were too well done and the pork was raw in the middle, and he still managed to start a little grease fire which, thankfully, Georgi dumped flour on pretty quickly.  

 

He had also helped him clean up the mess.

 

And he also didn’t tell The Pig, or, even more importantly, he didn’t tell Yakov.

 

Okay.  Maybe Georgi didn’t  _ totally _ suck either.

 

Once all the food was dished up and Yuuri said his little “before dinner” Japanese thing that neither he nor Victor attempted to pronounce, the threesome picked up their chopsticks and dug into that delicious calorie explosion.  One, two, three-

 

“Vkusno~!”  

 

It really was.  Damn. Every time The Pig made it, it tasted more and more like his mom’s; it was awesome.  Yuri figured Victor’s declaration would cover for him too, so he concentrated on shoveling katsudon into his mouth as fast as he could, pausing only to stab a chunk of fried chicken with one of his chopsticks and to squirt an obscene amount of sauce on it to add to the flavorful bliss.

 

“Take a breath, Yurio,” Yuuri said softly with a barely-there chuckle as he sipped from his wine glass.  “I don’t want you to feel ill afterward.”

 

“I’m-”  _ chomp _ , “fine.  It’s good. The chicken too.”

 

“Eat some salad,” the cook cautioned wisely.   _ Fuck _ salad.  How could Yuri think about rabbit food when there was such deliciousness rolling around in his mouth?

 

“You’re not my mom,” he grumbled between bites.

 

“Thank God,” The Pig deadpanned with a smirk, and it stopped him mid-bite.  Yuri shot a glance toward Victor who had that stupid smug smile on his face like he was saying “gotcha’.  Damn. It. All.

 

“Fine.  I’ll have some goddamn salad too.”

 

He dutifully plucked some salad onto his plate with the chopsticks; he had gotten pretty used to using them over the months of their Katsudon Nights, and he was secretly pretty proud of himself that he hadn’t had to give up and use the fork at all now.  He still stabbed some of the food when he wanted it faster, even though Victor had told him it was considered to be impolite to use chopsticks that way. But The Pig never mentioned that he was offended by it, so Victor could go screw with all of his studying of Japanese etiquette that he had been doing on the sly so he could relate better to Yuuri’s culture.  Yuri didn’t live there, so he figured he was in the clear because Yuuri never said anything, and he still got invited to their place to eat.

 

“So, what movie did you bring for us, Yurio?”  Victor asked between sips of his own wine and a subtle teeny refill to Yuuri’s glass which earned him a half-frown before his partner sipped it anyway.  

 

“Um, the first Harry Potter movie.”

 

“Oh, I like the Harry Potter movies;  Phichit and I saw them when we were in Detroit,”  Yuuri offered. “He was really into them for a while.  They’re cute.”

 

Ouch.  Shit.  _ Cute _ ?  Were they?  He didn’t remember seeing “cute” in any of the reviews he read online, and he really didn’t want to be lumped in with Mr. Selfie, and he knew that Victor was also a little touchy about The Pig’s long term friendship with his former roommate and rinkmate, even if he faked that he wasn’t.

 

“We can pick something else if you want,” he hurriedly supplied, shoveling more salad down his throat in hopes of exemplifying “good behavior”.  He needed both of these idiots in a good mood if he was ever to get up enough courage to ask them if they could take a trip together so he could finally spend time with Otabek.

 

“No, it sounds great,”  Victor affirmed; he apparently was not going to let the mention of the Thai skater ruin his own mood either.  That was helpful. “I’ve never seen any of them; it should be fun!”

 

“That’s because you are so friggin’  _ old _ .”

 

“You wound me, Yurio.  I assure you that I am still  _ very _ young and  _ full  _ of vitality,” he quipped in a flirty tone which earned him an exasperated “Bictooruuu!” from his partner.  Yuri laughed a little; whenever The Pig was sort of scolding, or sort of drunk, his Japanese accent was more pronounced when he said Victor’s name.  Poor little Yuuri; no matter that it was intended to shut his airhead boyfriend up, it only had the opposite effect on Victor.

 

He responded to it immediately with delight as though it was like the fucking Bat-signal from the Batman movies Yuri liked that they hated; it told Victor that he was definitely heading in the right direction for getting more hugs and kisses from The Pig and maybe the other stuff too.  Gross. Yuri needed to remember: 100% Denial. 100%.

 

But Victor had the credit cards and could buy the plane tickets.  Victor could make the hotel reservations. Victor could charm Yakov into giving him his passport back. 

 

It  _ sucked _ , but he needed Victor to remain in a good mood, so he let the cheek-mashing cuddles he was giving The Pig while he was trying to eat pass, no matter how gross it was.  

 

The three of them resumed their dinner, and the elder two sipped their wine.  Yuri must have been staring at their glasses or toward the reduced level of liquid in the bottle because Victor caught his eye and winked.  Gross. “Not for you, koneko-chan~!”

 

“Shut up.”

 

At that moment, Victor’s phone rang from where he had left it on the coffee table.  “Finally; they must have towed that car. Excuse me a minute, Yuuri,” he said as he rose from the table to answer the device.  After a few choice words in Russian that Yuri figured The Pig didn’t understand, he returned to the table. “Do you mind if i step out to move the car?”

 

“Mm-hm,” Yuuri affirmed with a head-shake in the negative.  God; that must be some Japanese thing where “mm-hm” could mean either yes or no depending on the situation.  Apparently Victor understood that it was permission granted, and he headed for the door. “I’m going,” he said in Japanese.  At least, that’s what Yuri assumed it meant; it was another one of those words or phrases that Yuri had come to learn was another traditional Japanese thing.  God what a complicated custom to always have to announce when you are leaving and coming back like that every time! However kids were able to sneak out of their houses over there, Yuri would never figure out.  Maybe Japanese kids just didn’t do that? He didn’t know. Maybe he could ask Victor to ask Katsudon about it since he sure didn’t want to sound like a dumb tourist in front of The Pig, no matter that they weren’t even in fucking Japan.

 

“Kiotsukete,” Yuuri responded almost affectionately with that little half-smile on his face.  Yuri just rolled his eyes, but he refrained from calling them stupid or embarrassing or whatever.  He needed them both to agree, and if The Pig was happy, then Victor sure as hell would be happy too, and more inclined to make vacation plans.

 

But that word was not the same as the usual, and Yuri’s curiosity got the better of him once Victor left the apartment to go deal with his car.  “What was that about?” he asked.

 

Yuuri had a question in his eyes, but he said nothing.

 

“That word was different from what you usually say,” he was forced to clarify.

 

“Ah,” the Japanese skater replied, smiling almost to himself.  “I just told him to be careful. It’s dark out, and I don’t know where he had to park.”

 

“It’s not far.  He’ll be fine.” But Yuri wasn’t totally satisfied.  “So what is that other word you usually say then?”

 

“Hmm.”  Again, another non-word that probably meant something.  “It doesn’t totally translate to English well, but it basically means ‘have a good day’ or, um, I guess ‘have a good day’ or ‘take care’ is probably closest for the context of it in most cases.” 

 

“Oh.”

 

“It’s rare for you to show an interest, Yurio,” he commented softly as he sipped from his wine glass again.  

 

“Who said I was interested?  I just noticed what you said was different,” he grumped.  Damn. Should he not have done that? He glanced toward The Pig’s face, but there wasn’t anything hurt-looking or anything, just thoughtful.  Okay. Safe.

 

“Victor is trying hard to learn Japanese, so we are speaking it sometimes here at...home.  We can stop if it bothers you.”

 

“No, it doesn’t bother me,” he said quietly, taking his last bite of the delicious katsudon.  “This was really good. The chicken too. Um, thanks for making it.”

 

Yuuri smiled then.  “I’m relieved. I still can’t get it exactly like my mom’s, but I think I’m close now.  Thanks, Yuri.”

 

“Maybe because you’re not a Japanese Mom?” he quipped quietly, made slightly uncomfortable by The Pig’s sincerity.  Yuri swallowed; it was rare for him to use his real name, and he had come to realize that it must have some contextual meaning too, or deeper meaning that he was slowly beginning to understand.  Yuuri didn’t overtly say anything, but Yuri was learning enough about his subtleties that he thought he understood that complementing his cooking was actually really important to the Japanese skater, so to acknowledge that, he used his actual name.  He supposed if he ever complimented his skating he might get the same reaction. He wasn’t going to do that in front of anyone but Otabek yet though.

 

Ah.  Otabek.  The trip.  Victor needed to get back here stat before he lost the momentum of his mostly good behavior.

 

“Are you finished?”  Yuuri asked, “I can clear your plate.”

 

“No!” he blurted.  His volume startled the elder skater a little.  Shit. “I mean,  _ yes _ , I’m finished, but I’ll clean up.  You did all the work here while your stupid boyfriend was out shopping for booze after all.”

 

A little laugh.  “Okay. Thank you,” he added as he handed his own plate over to Yuri’s outstretched hand.  He collected Victor’s empty plate as well; the two Russians always cleaned their plates much faster than did the cook, so Yuri felt like it was safe to assume that he was done eating as well.  As he entered the kitchen, he heard the sound of a teeny bit more wine being poured into the glass. God, Victor sure had his ways. Denial. 100%.

 

The next sound he heard was Yuuri following him into the kitchen with his wine glass in one hand and the platter of the remaining fried chicken in the other.  Yuri was filling the sink to pre-wash the dishes before putting them in the mostly-useless dishwasher Victor had been complaining to the super about replacing since  _ forever _ while the other man placed the chicken plate and his glass on the counter.  “I said I’d clean up, Katsudon. Are you deaf?”

 

“I know, I just thought maybe you’d like to take the rest of the fried chicken home with you for tomorrow?”

 

Crap.  Yes.  _ Yes! _   Of course he wanted to take it all home and eat it for a midnight snack.  Damn. He had to be polite. In this situation, the polite thing to do would be to demurely decline so as not to impose, right?  God, he couldn’t do  _ demure _ .  Shit.    “That’s okay, I’m sure Victor will eat it.”  Close enough.

 

“Hmm.  It’s not his favorite.  I think you like it more,” he said softly.

 

Damn.  The Pig made the chicken especially for  _ him _ ?!  Was he really so transparent?  He hated to admit it to himself again, but Katsuki Yuuri really was one of the okayest people he had ever met.  He’ll keep his 100% Denial about what he  _ definitely did not hear  _ at the 4CC hotel because, really, in moments like these, Yuuri was more like a doting older brother or even like a doting wife than anything else, and he was actually offering him the Fried Chicken:  AKA, God’s Side Dish to Katsudon, the Food God Eats.

 

Yuri did his best to decline so politely too, but he also learned that if an offer was made a second time, then it would be actually  _ impolite _ to refuse it at that point, or so Victor had told him.  Were Japanese people really this complicated? How could such a flake like Victor avoid accidentally insulting his boyfriend like every goddamn day with all these friggin’ nuances?   Or, maybe he had, and maybe that’s how he had learned, or maybe The Pig just put up with him. Yuri didn’t know. 

 

Okay.  Whatever.  He assumed that Yuuri was subtly offering again.  Now Yuri could claim that chicken without any fear of retribution.  Thank God. “Well, if  _ you _ aren’t going to eat it…,”  He’ll take the chicken, and he’ll take some of that damn mystery-sauce too.  Oh, yes: He. Will. Take. It. 

 

He must have gotten it right because The Pig smiled again, and not his smug little smirk.  Yuri supposed that Victor spent his entire days trying to earn that smile, and he himself had to admit that he wasn’t exactly unhappy to have caused it to appear.  He’d seen it a few times, and every time he felt as though he caught a glimpse of the real Katsuki Yuuri, the one that happily enjoyed eating his grandpa’s katsudon pirozhki, the one that would shine through in his skating when he was “on”, the one who wasn’t crippled by being in the midst of anxiety and panic attacks: the one with whom that flaky geezer Victor was desperately,  _ sickeningly _ , in love.  Yuri’s Denial was still 100% intact.  He owed the person who made the chicken that much.

 

The elder skater returned to the table and retrieved the remains of the salad, and the squirt bottle of that precious mystery-sauce.  Yuri tried his best to remain indifferent, but he couldn’t help but to be excited when Yuuri brought down a plastic container he called a “bento box” and proceeded to place rice, the fried chicken, and,  _ ugh _ , the salad into the little compartments inside.  There was a little round container in the box as well, and he poured some of the sauce into it, and the round container went snugly into its own little compartment.  He had filled the whole thing with sauce.  _ Awesome. _

 

Katsuki Yuuri was definitely one of the most okay people he knew.  Otabek would love this sauce. 

 

Right.

 

Otabek.  Please let Victor come back soon and let them both say yes.

 

“Here you go; we’ll keep it in the fridge until Victor takes you home.”

 

“Um, arigatou, Yuuri.”

 

“Doitashimashite,” he replied with another of those “real” smiles.   Yuri knew that mouthful of a word meant “you’re welcome” to his learned Japanese “thank you”, and he was happy that he could put the bento box into the fridge to take back to the dorm.

 

Yuri continued to wash the dishes and Yuuri continued to sip his wine while he walked over to turn off the music.  He turned on the tv and the blu-ray player and loaded the Harry Potter movie into the machine. “Subtitles on or off, Yurio?”  he called out from the couch.

 

“Off is fine.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Yuri pre-washed the last dish and loaded it into the dishwasher, and that was far as he could go.  The stupid thing was pretty much broken, Victor calling it “temperamental”, and it seemed only to turn on for Victor.

 

The door opened and the eldest of the three returned to the apartment, and Yuuri waved him to the kitchen.  “Will you please turn on the dishwasher before you sit down?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Victor came into the kitchen area as Yuri was hanging the dish towel to dry.  “I’m already done pre-washing the dishes, Geezer. Nice timing.”

 

“Awww, thanks, Yurio.  What a good boy!” he gushed while rustling his hair before Yuri could duck out of the way.

 

“Shut up.  I’m not your dog.”  Come to think of it, where was that massive beast?  He hadn’t seen him, but maybe he was sleeping in the bedroom.  He was getting old, and Yuri had noticed that he slept a lot and liked to sleep anywhere: their bed, the massive dog beds in each room, and on some custom Dog-Hammock-Shelter-Thing that was _ heated _ which Victor had out on the balcony and that which The Pig thought was ridiculous.

 

“I’ll bring him in once I start the dishwasher.  He’s gotten sensitive to me banging on it,” Victor explained with a smile and got down into a crouch to pull the panel off the dishwasher in order to turn the blasted thing on.  He got it to start working after the second attempt and a few coaxing “bangs”, and he snapped the panel back into place. “All set; let’s watch your movie.”

 

The two joined The Pig in front of the tv after Victor opened the door to let the half-asleep dog inside, and he put fresh water into his bowl and cooed at him like he was some big furry baby.  He poured more wine into his glass and not-so-subtly poured his partner another refill. “Vitya, that’s enough,” he mock-chided but accepted the refill anyway. Yuck. They were probably going to get all mushy and cuddly on the couch; Yuri moved the chair he usually occupied slightly so they’d be mostly out of his view while they watched the movie. 

 

Victor slid into the couch when his partner made space and then the the Japanese skater reclined back onto his chest.  Well, it was now or never; the all-important question needed to be asked before the cuddles began.

 

“So, um, before we start the movie, can I ask you guys something?” he ventured, twisting around in the chair a bit so he could look at them.  They both were sipping from their glasses and Yuuri had the remote in his other hand.

 

“Of course you can,” Victor replied easily as his partner lowered the remote and gave him his attention as well.

 

“What are you doing in the off season this year?”

 

The pair glanced at each other.  “We haven’t really made any firm plans yet.  Why do you want to know?” Victor implored curiously.

 

“No reason.  Just making conversation,”  Yuri grumbled turning back around in his chair.

 

“Yurio?”  That was The Pig.  

 

Shit.  Okay. He can do this.

 

“I was just wondering if you had plans yet.  No big.” He heard a little rustling from the direction of the couch and he had a sense that something embarrassing was about to occur.  

 

Sure enough, Victor was up on his feet and coming around to stand in front of his chair, his arms akimbo and that ridiculously frivolous look on his face.  “Are you finally going to ask us to adopt you, Yuratchka? This is so exciting!”

 

_ “Victor!”  _  came the scolding from the couch.

 

“No!  _ Asshole _ !”

 

“Aww…,” the Geezer whined with a pout, “it would be so nice, and you could have the spare bedroom, and you can bring your cat, I don’t like cats, but that’s okay;  Makkachin won’t hurt her and I’ll make an exception about the cat for you, and-”

 

“Victor.   _ Enough _ ,”  admonished his boyfriend.  “Sit down over here and let him talk.” Victor gave Yuri a playful wink and returned to his spot on the couch.  Bastard. He should have known this would go immediately to  _ shit _ .  “Go ahead, Yurio, what did you need to ask?”

 

Okay.  Here goes nothing.  “I...was just wondering if you guys were going to take a vacation anywhere this off-season.  That’s all.”

 

By this point Victor had a thoughtful look on his face which matched that of his partner’s.  They shared another glance and it looked like they both were earnestly listening. “We were planning on visiting Yuuri’s family at some point, but, we haven’t made any reservations,”  Victor said with no trace of his former silliness. 

 

“Oh.”    Japan is far.  Otabek probably couldn’t afford that.  Shit.

 

The pair shared another glance and Yuuri nodded.  “Did you want to come to Hasetsu with us?” he asked.

 

“Um…”  shit. He sort of wouldn’t mind going back to Yuuri’s family onsen, but he knew there was no way Otabek would be able to go. “I would, but…”

 

“You wanted to go somewhere else,”  Victor finished for him. 

 

“It’s not like I don’t want to go to Japan,” he hurriedly explained, “it’s just...it’s far, and expensive….”

 

“That didn’t stop you last year,”  Victor commented. Then a look of realization washed over him.  “But Yakov didn’t like it did he?”

 

“No.”

 

“So,”  Victor continued, pressing his index finger to his lips, “I’m guessing you need a chaperone to go somewhere outside of Russia, yet not too far, so maybe you could visit with a friend, right?”

 

Crap.  How did he know all that?!  Also, how could Victor switch from being a total Embarrassing Idiot to being so damn perceptive?  Oh well. No use playing it off now. “Yeah...Otabek couldn’t afford to go to Japan if it’s not for a competition…”

 

The couple on the couch looked at each other again, having a miniscule silent conversation.  “Have you talked to Yakov about this?” Victor asked him seriously.   
  


“Of course I  _ haven’t. _  I’m asking  _ you _ .  If you don’t want to help me out, then just tell me already,” he grumbled.  

 

Victor’s lips curled into a smug smile.  “Are you sure you want to go on a trip with us?  After all, aren’t we  _ gross _ ?”

 

“Vitya…,”  cautioned The Pig, but it was too late.  Yuri could already tell that the irrational gears of Victor’s mind were already spinning.  

 

“Oh, Yuuri, it’s like a dream come true:  Yurio wants to take a family trip with us!  Maybe he’s outgrowing his angsty teenage phase!”

 

“ _ Bictoru _ .”

 

“Shut up, Geezer!  Nevermind! Forget I asked!” 

 

“Ah, nope, still angsty-”

 

“Yurio,” Yuuri interrupted, after an exasperated exhalation directed toward his boyfriend, “before we talk about planning anything, you need Yakov’s okay, and probably your Grandfather’s okay as well.”

 

“I know.”

 

“But, I think we can probably work something out.”

 

“Really, Katsudon?”

 

“Yeah, I think so,” he replied with a sort-of smile, and Victor was absolutely beaming.

 

“Then it’s settled,”  Victor declared, shuffling himself a bit on the couch to pull his phone from his pocket.  Before Yuri could protest, the had pressed a couple of buttons and had his phone to his ear.  “Hello, Yakov...Yes, everything’s fine. We’ll be taking Yurio on a little vacation with us on the off-season, okay?...Yes... Yes, Yuuri will be there too...we’re not sure, but I’ll make sure you know all the details....right.   Okay. Good night.” He closed the call. “Done deal; you can call your Grandfather in the morning, and I’ll try not to embarrass you too much,” he added with a wink.

 

Yuri just stared; all it took was a one-minute phone conversation and he could start making plans with Otabek.  He supposed a “thank you” was probably in order. “Thanks…”

 

“So where do you want to go?”  Victor implored, finally cutting out the “family trip” bullshit after his boyfriend’s scolding.  For a split second, Yuri wondered just how whipped Victor was becoming. Maybe he could use that sometime. Wait.  He still needed his 100% Denial. Nevermind. Whatever. “Have you even thought about it?” he pressed.

 

“No, I didn’t really think that far ahead.  But it doesn’t really matter as long as it’s not some remote wilderness with nothing to do.”

 

“Where does  _ Otabek _ want to go?”  God, Victor was persistent.  Yuri figured he’d have to deal with that since Victor loved impromptu anything.

 

“I don’t know...I guess wherever he can get a travel visa?”

 

Again, before he could do anything Victor was tapping things on his phone.  To his horror, heard Otabek’s voice on the other end of the phone on FaceTime.  “Hi, Victor…”

 

“Hi~, Otabek!  How are you?”

 

“Give me that!”  Yuri hissed as he bounded out of his chair and swiped Victor’s phone.  “Hey.”

 

“Hi, Yuri….so I’m guessing you asked about taking a trip?”

 

“Yeah, they said-”

 

“He sure did!”  Victor quipped, swiping his phone back and leaning against The Pig.   “This will be fun; say ‘hi’, Yuuri!”

 

“Hi, Otabek, it’s good to see you,” Yuuri contributed, “Do you know where you’d like to visit?”

 

“Well, wherever you would like to go is fine with me, as long as it’s on the continent…”

 

“Okay,”  Victor replied, “you and Yurio talk it over, and Yuuri and I will come up with some ideas too.  Of course, I always love Paris-Yuuri, do you love Paris?”

 

“Um….Paris is kind of-”

 

“We’ll discuss!”  Victor supplied in interruption, sensing The Pig’s vote on Paris was a “NO”.

“Thanks, both of you, for doing this for Yuri…”

 

“Of course!  What are friends for, right Otabek?”

 

“Give. Me. That. Phone,”  Yuri seethed. Victor lazily handed the phone over with a sing-song “bye-bye!” and Yuri dashed off with it to the spare bedroom, slammed the door, and leaned with his back against it.  “God that guy!” he hissed to his friend.

 

“Good for you, Yuri, they said yes,”  Otabek returned with amusement, and he shifted a little so that Yuri now saw that he was actually in his bed.  He stifled a little yawn; Victor probably woke him up, but he seemed not to care. “Now we have to decide where we want to go…I’m thinking ‘not Paris’ based on Yuuri’s reaction just now.”

 

“Yeah.”  A few silent seconds reigned as Yuri couldn’t quite figure out what to suggest, the reality that it was actually going to happen having still not quite set in.

 

“It’s pretty cool of them.”

 

“Y-yeah.  I just hope we don’t regret it.”

 

“We won’t.  I think Yuuri will keep him busy, won’t he?”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?!  Don’t you get gross on me too!” he snapped.  Maybe it was time to let his friend in on the 100% Denial he’d been having to maintain ever since the 4CC.

 

“Think about it, Yuri.  If Victor is distracted by Yuuri…”

 

“Then they will be leaving us alone.”  It  _ was _ a benefit.  He knew that.

 

“Right.”

 

“You’ve got a point there.”

 

“But Victor’s not so bad, is he?  Once you get past his quirky side?”

 

“ _ Quirky?! _  You think Victor is just quirky?  More like attention whore. Or drama queen.  Or just about the most  _ extra  _ person any of us even fucking  _ knows _ ,” he spat in a hot whisper.

 

“Or he’s a guy a dozen years older than you who could take any type of trip that he wants with his partner, but who is instead willing to take a 16 year old with him on an overseas vacation and be responsible for him without asking for anything in return, hmm?”

 

Yuri had no real response to that.   “Yeah, okay,” he half-relented, “He’s not that bad.   _ Sometimes _ .  But The Pig better keep him under control that’s all I gotta say.”

 

The little smile-smirk returned.  “I’m happy, Yuri.”

 

“Me too…”

 

At that moment he could hear Victor calling out to him from the living room to bring back his phone and to come watch the movie.  “I gotta go. ‘Family Movie Night’, remember?”

 

“Have fun.  I’ll start checking online for destinations, okay?”

 

“Okay.  See ya.”

 

Yuri returned to the living room just in time to see that the stupid poodle had also returned from the kitchen and joined his humans on the couch, making himself the other slice of bread for a Pig sandwich.  Fucking dog people; the stupid dog still had on the fugly sweater too.

 

“I was wondering when the giant furball was going to join us,” he remarked as he helped himself to one of the throw blankets Victor kept in a basket by the couch seeing that the elder two had grabbed one for themselves to combat the chill in the room.

 

“He gets too excited jumping in the kitchen when I make dinner if Victor’s not here to distract him.  I did save him a little bit though,” Yuuri replied. “He won’t bother you now that he’s eaten it.”

 

“Damn, Katsudon, you’ve got talent be able to banish both the Geezer and the furball out of your way at the same time.”

 

“Eh?”

 

“That’s right, Yuuri,”  Victor purred into his hair, enjoying the flustered reaction he was getting.  “You’re the boss.” 

 

“And  _ you’re _ disgusting,” Yuri spat.  “Press play already.”

 

The Pig pressed play and the three of them watched the movie until the dog left the couch and curled up in a giant pet bed on the floor.  Victor had stopped drinking wine, ostensibly because he had to drive Yuri back to the dorm, but Yuuri finished his glass plus a final refill that he poured for himself.  When the movie ended, everyone had a good stretch where they sat and Yuri rose to retrieve the disk from the player.

 

“What a fun movie,”  Victor remarked. “I can see why it was so popular;  I’ll have to get the books.”

 

“Just watch the rest of the movies if you’re that into it,” Yuri grumbled. 

 

“If you bring the next one, we’ll watch it,” he answered,  “Are you ready to go back?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Victor squeezed his partner’s shoulder to get him to sit up fully so he could get off the couch.  “I’ll be back, Yuuri,” he affirmed. 

 

“Mm.”

 

Yuri noticed that Victor went to the kitchen and reached inside the fridge for the bento box before heading for the door; he supposed he knew his partner was going to make a “to-go” box without being told, and Yuri wondered how it actually works to get to a point to where you know another person that well.  He didn’t know anyone that well yet, but he figured it must be something that happens when you stop living alone. Victor never brought him food or snacks before Yuuri came to live with him.

 

“Thanks for dinner and for the fried chicken, Katsudon,”  Yuri said quietly as he joined Victor at the door to replace his cheetah print sneakers on his feet.  The oldest and the youngest exited the apartment and rode the elevator down to the lobby in silence. Victor handed him his bento box and told him to wait for a moment so he could have another little conversation with the super about his expectations for his parking space upon his return, and, in a few silent paces to the lot, the pair were back in Victor’s car.  

 

About halfway through the short drive back to the dorm, Victor turned down the radio.  “Yuri,” he began, and it startled the passenger to hear him use his actual name, “if you want to go to Hasetsu too, you can.  Just say the word.”

 

Yuri tried to process that as they sat for a really long traffic light.  “I’m sure you and The Pig don’t want me as a tagalong when you visit his family.”

 

“Oh, you wouldn’t be a tagalong.  I think you know that Yuuri’s family and friends welcome you with open arms as well.  There is so much love there; I miss it.”

 

“What a sap.”

 

Victor chuckeld.  He put the car in gear and signaled for a turn.  He didn’t move to turn the radio back up, probably because he still thought Yuri’s preset station was awful.  Just as Yuri leaned over to crank the volume to prove to the Geezer that his music was, in fact, the shit, Victor spoke again before he could turn the knob.   “You know, I was thinking about Otabek’s situation. I’m pretty sure I have some frequent-flyer miles to spare. Perhaps we can manage to put some toward his ticket to reduce the cost, and then you both can come to Japan.  If we can fly via Helsinki, he won’t have to transfer in Russia.”

 

What?!  

 

“Victor-”

 

“You two youngsters might have to fly coach if we do that though,”  he interrupted with a wink and a quick smile cast in his direction. “Naturally, we  _ Geezers _ will be in first class,” he added with another of his smug smiles. 

 

What he needed was a quick and rude comeback for the remark, but he came up clueless instead.  Was Victor really offering to help pay for Otabek to fly to fucking  _ Japan _ ?! 

 

“Y-you’d do that?”

 

By this time, they had pulled into the circular drive of the dorm and Victor left the car to idle by putting it in neutral and lifting the e-brake.  “Friends are important, Yuri. You shouldn’t ignore anyone whom you accept as a friend. If this helps you to spend time with Otabek, I’m more than happy to do it.”

 

Where was the Embarrassing Idiot?  Yuri couldn’t think of anything else to say but a barely uttered “Why?”

 

Victor leaned his head back on the bucket seat with a gentle exhalation.  He stared out the moonroof of the car and upward toward the sky which had cleared from earlier drizzle.  “I ignored too many things in favor of life on the ice. Real connections with people, a...family.”

 

Yuri remained silent, the only sound the almost non-existent volume of his radio station.  He looked at his shoes; the feet inside those shoes were his life, his ticket to support for his grandfather.  Of course he understood about family. What the hell was Victor trying to say? Was he talking about his own family that, as far as Yuri knew, didn’t even exist?

 

“You mean The Pig’s family?”

 

Victor continued to stare out the moonroof until his eyes slid shut.  “Since we came back here to Pitr, I see things with new eyes, like I’m a tourist in my own homeland.  I find myself seeing Hasetsu in places here and there, just like in Barcelona on the seawall. You see it too, Yuri, don’t you?”

 

Crap.  Didn’t he think Barcelona reminded him of Hasetsu? Embarrassingly, didn’t he say as much out loud after Victor grabbed him by the face after he insulted The Pig’s ring? Even some of the smaller boats on the Neva and out on the Gulf of Finland reminded him of the fishing skiffs he could see offshore in Japan too.  Maybe going to Japan had a bigger impact upon him than he thought. “I guess I get that,” he said quietly. “I...liked it there.”

 

“Then that’s where we should go, and you should bring Otabek too.  Traveling is wonderful, especially when you’re with friends.”

 

“Yeah…”

 

The pair sat in silence for a few more seconds until the sound of the doors to the dorm opening and of happy conversation reached their ears from outside.  Mila had exited the building hand-in-hand with Alexei version 2.0; she called out and waved to them and Victor immediately sat up and lowered the window to lean halfway out of it with his stupid flakey self, and, just like that, the Embarrassing Idiot was back..  “Don’t keep her out too late, Alexei Charnov, or I will  _ personally _ attend your next game and cheer you on with a heart shaped banner to declare my love for you!”

 

How the hell did Victor know this Alexei’s last name?  Wasn’t half the team Alexei Somebody-or-other? Also, shut the fuck up.

 

“Aw~ Victor, Alexei is a total gentleman!”  Mila called back. Yuri just made a gagging sound in his seat and shot the pair a middle finger in lieu of waving.  He did notice that Alexei Whoever had a very uncertain and disturbed look on his face. He probably realized that Victor would actually make good on embarrassing him exactly in the manner he said; he’d bring Mila back on time if he knew what was good for him, or he would lose a ton of face in front of all the other Alexeis on the hockey team and the Sergeis too.  Even though the hockey players were never outright disrespectful to their male counterparts in figure skating, both groups tended to keep their roles in the world of winter sports as separate as the types of skates they used. It’s a long standing opinion of figure skaters that guys who played hockey were too big or not graceful or good enough to be figure skaters, and it was a longstanding opinion of hockey players that a sport that sparkled as much as figure skating could barely qualify as a sport.  Of course, some of the better hockey players had a foundation in figure skating, even if it was just for a couple of years in childhood. They just keep that truth tightly concealed under the wraps of their many layers of protective equipment. Yuri actually liked hockey; it was a sport where you were only penalized a couple of minutes for the pleasure of beating the shit out of someone. Not a bad trade.

 

“I am so glad to hear that, Mila; I guess you won’t get your chance with me after all, Alexei!” he replied, and Yuri knew without needing to see it that Victor had thrown “the wink”™ because Alexei visibly shuddered next to Mila and gripped her hand just a little bit more tightly.  Yuri was pretty sure that all the Alexeis and Sergeis knew that the living legend was hopelessly attached to his little piglet, but even hockey players weren’t 100% immune to Victor being Victor. The man seemed to recover himself though, and he cracked a smile of amazingly straight teeth.  At least hockey players didn’t sport tooth gaps from on-ice fights like badges of honor anymore like they did in all the old pictures of “the greats” that were hanging all over the rink lobby. Yuri wondered if he had his teeth fixed, or if he was just a benchwarmer who hadn’t had the chance to wreck his smile yet.  He looked more at ease now that Mila was laughing and tugging on his arm. Gross. 

 

“Sorry, Victor,” he declared after getting a nod of encouragement from his date.    “I’m fresh out of glitter, so I don’t think it would work between us,” the man quipped toward which both Mila and Victor chuckled a little, none among them taking offense.  Maybe there was hope for this Alexei; the last Alexiei wasn’t willing even to talk to any of them, never mind to address Victor directly like that. Alexei The First was probably secretly afraid that Victor might fake-flirt with him one day, but Yuri already knew that Victor had sized up Alexei The First, and had told Mila without telling her outright that he was  _ not  _ impressed.  Yuri, however, was sort of impressed that Alexei 2.0 seemed to just roll with it.  So far, he seemed okay to Victor too; if Victor didn’t like him, he wouldn’t have even wasted the breath required for words on him and he certainly wouldn’t be goofing off with the guy.

 

Victor emitted a dramatic sigh for effect.  “Yes, that would be an issue I don’t think our relationship could overcome.  I suppose I will have to let Mila accompany you after all.”

 

As if Mila needed Victor’s opinion or approval.  Whatever, Idiot. 

 

Yuri did notice, however, that a look of relief danced across her face.  She had pretty much figured out that none of her rink mates really cared much for the last Alexei, especially Victor.  Yuri swore to himself that he had zero intentions of giving two shits if Victor didn't like whomever he dated in the future.  It’s not like it was happening any time soon; he was too focused on winning and didn’t have time for bullshit like that. Maybe Mila would have more gold medals if she’d give up on going out with hockey players.

 

“I’ll bring her back on time,”  Alexei returned, “Yakov will have my head anyway if I don’t.  I don’t want to deal with what  _ you  _ might do about it, but I  _ definitely _ don’t want to deal with  _ him _ .”

 

“You’re a wise man, Alexei,” came the response in a tone that Yuri recognized as suddenly and very deadly serious; it was the same one he used when he was about to sternly grab him by the face.  Alexei recolied a little, but Mila patted his shoulder and he relaxed again. Victor seemed to accept the non-verbal display and he wished them to have a good-but-not-too-good time as he slid fully back into his seat and rolled the window up again.  God. Did Victor want to be everyone’s goddamn  _ Dad _ ?  Even Mila’s?  What a fucking dork.

 

“He seems better than the last one,” Victor remarked quietly.  “At least he can take a joke.”

 

“He doesn’t look as dumb as the last one either,”  Yuri contributed, to his own surprise. Why the hell should he care who Mila was screwing?  Wait. Was she even screwing him? Did she screw the last one? Gross. He really needed to push that mental image away; it was almost as bad as thinking about Victor and The Pig and his 100% Denial.  God, it was going to take years to stop thinking about that. Maybe he was actually scarred for life. Maybe he should consider hypnosis or something to wipe the memory of that night after all. “Thanks for driving me back here....and I’ll talk to Otabek about Hasetsu.  He did tell me he wanted to try eating katsudon.”

 

“Wow~, really?”  Victor replied, “I knew I liked him.”

 

“Oh shut up.”  He reached for the door handle and was about to pull on it when he felt Victor’s fingers pinch his arm sharply.  “Ow! What the fuck was that for?!” he spat.

 

“We weren’t done with our previous conversation.”

 

Uh-oh.

 

“We weren’t?  You said you would help if Otabek wanted to come to Japan.  Then you said some sappy shit I didn’t listen to. Can I go now?”

 

“I think you did listen.  I think you are always listening, always learning.  You come off like a little hot-head, but you are extremely intelligent, and extremely observant.  Don’t think I don’t realize exactly that.”

 

Fuck.  Maybe he was spending too much time with Victor for him to know that much; he needed that about as much as he needed a hole in the head.  “Whatever, Geezer. You don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

 

Victor turned to him with a pointed look that challenged the statement.  “If I didn’t know you well, you wouldn’t be sitting in this car right now and having this conversation with me.  If i didn’t understand you, I wouldn’t trust you, which, I do.”

 

Yuri just stared in disbelief.  Where was this coming from, and where was it heading toward?  Suddenly, he wanted flakey Embarrassing Idiot pseudo-Dad Victor back, hell, he’d even reduce his denial to 99%, because he wasn’t sure he could handle a serious Victor for very long.  He was much easier to deal with when he was being an airhead. 

 

But Yuri had to admit it to himself that he knew this side of Victor Nikiforov existed.  He’d seen plenty of glimpses when the elder must have thought no one was looking. Maybe Victor realized Yuri had seen those chinks in his fake-ass, media-darling armor.  He turned and draped his hands over the steering wheel and stared out the windshield of the car as Mila and Alexei 2.0 walked hand-in-hand down the block. 

 

“Long after Yuuri and I retire, you will still have many years of championships to win.  Don’t ignore that you notice the people who love you, in all the different ways that they do.  I’m  _ trusting _ you to be smarter and better than I am.  Don’t make my mistakes.”

 

Wait.  What?! 

 

“Are you  _ retiring _ ?”  he asked, not liking how unsteady his voice sounded.

 

Victor didn’t respond with anything but another exhalation; this time Yuri’s imagination was running away with trying to wrap his head around the concept that Victor might actually be calling it quits.  If that happened, what would The Pig do? Would he stay in St. Petersburg with them? Would Victor sell all his shit and move to Hasetsu and coach him there? 

 

Would Katsuki Yuuri retire at the same time?!  Oh, fuck no.  _ No _ .

 

That’s what he wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come.  He didn’t want The Pig to move back to Japan. He hated to admit it, but he didn’t even want  _ Victor _ to move to Japan.

What would happen to him if they both…

 

Left.  Him...?

 

Victor closed his eyes.  “Is that the only thing you heard out of what I just said?” he whispered.

 

“Isn’t that the main thing?!” he  shouted in sharp contrast to the quiet mood the idling of the car and the barely-there music was attempting to create as Victor leaned back in the seat.  “What the hell?! I thought you were serious this year. If you’ve just been playing around for The Pig’s sake-”

 

“Do you think I could beat the two of you by just ‘playing around’?” he interrupted sternly.  “Even if I’ve won most of my competitions this season, I’m sure you realize that I haven’t reclaimed either of the two records the two of you broke.”

 

“Victor-”

 

“I’m not retired yet.  Yuuri isn’t either. But it’s coming, and it would be foolish of us not to talk about it; we don’t have a lot of time left as competitors, me most of all.  That’s basic, Yuri.”

 

“But-”

 

“Don’t miss the point here.  There’s more to life than skating; don’t take as long as I did to figure that out. ”

 

“I know that…”

 

“Your friendship with Otabek is good for you.”

 

“I know that too.”

 

“Then talk to him about going to Japan; I know it’s far, but it would make Yuuri happy to know you wanted to come and bring your friend.  Tell him the cost is not an issue; whatever he can contribute, we’ll find a way to make up the difference, okay?”

 

“O-okay.”

 

“And I wouldn’t mind getting to know your friend better too.  He’s so refreshing!”

 

“Ugh...why do you  _ say _ shit like that?!  He’s  _ not _ refreshing.  He’s just…”

 

“He’s just?”  Victor prodded playfully.

 

“He’s just Otabek goddamnit!  Let me outta this car already.  Your Pig will be all sobered up by the time you get home and you’ll be sleeping on the couch again for taking so goddamn long!”

 

Instead of doing something gross, Vitor’s eyes narrowed into a very serious expression, like he was having a last minute debate in his own clusterfuck of a brain as to whether or not he was going to say something.  He put his hand firmly on Yuri’s shoulder and squeezed.

 

“Get off me.”

 

“This was my last season, Yuri.”

 

Oh, shit.  

 

_ Shit! _

 

_ No!   _ That  _ asshole! _  No, no  _ no _ , he did not just drop that bomb on him.   _ No! _

 

“Stop  _ messing _ with me!” he yelled.  

 

“Besides you,” Victor continued with a soft and gentle tone,  “only Yakov and Yuuri know, though I suspect that Chris has figured it out too.”

 

Shit.  He wasn’t kidding.  Shit.

 

Yuri kept his eyes on the door handle and watched as the hand that was gripping it fell limply into his lap.  He felt his face grow hot with anger. No. It wasn’t even anger, it was something else. 

 

Oh.  

 

_ That _ .

 

He hadn’t felt that in a long time, not since he was a tiny beginner whose entire hand fit between three of his grandfather’s thick fingers as they walked home from all those practices his parents never came to.  

 

“I’m trusting you to know this, Yuri, and to understand what it means.”

 

Yeah.  He knew what it meant all right: Russia had pinned her hopes and dreams on Victor for a very long time.  Last year, Yuri got a glimpse of what that felt like at Rostelecom with the elder out of the lineup, and the pressure was heavy indeed.  He hadn’t been prepared for it, to carry the country to gold. He hadn’t understood it in juniors when he was the top-ranked skater year after year with ridiculously pathetic whelps who could in no way be called competition, but now that the mortality of a skater’s career was being so bluntly verbalized to him from within the confines of the car, he couldn’t ignore it.

 

Victor was passing the fucking Russian torch.   Not to Georgi, not to Pyotr who was making his senior debut at seventeen next year.  To  _ him _ . 

 

“What about  _ Katsudon _ ?”  he whispered.

 

“He’ll wait until the season ends to see where his body is to decide for sure, but he said he wants to keep going if he can.  Of course, I will continue on as his coach.”

 

“Where.”   It was a question, but it came out like a demand.  Yuri was too upset to care.

 

Victor exhaled again.  “Honestly, I’m not sure.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

Predictably, Victor ignored the outburst, or, maybe, he expected it and let it pass.  “Yuuri and I both want you to spend time with us in Japan. With or without Otabek, but you’d be happier if he came along.  We’ll make that happen for you if you want it. And…”

 

“And?!  And  _ what _ ?!” Yuri snapped.

 

“We won’t leave you behind.”

 

What a crock of shit.  They would most surely be doing just that if they decided to move to Japan.  

 

“Like I care.  Pack your shit and just go already.  It’s not like you need my fucking permission now that you have your little Pig boyfriend at the center of your fucking universe.”

 

“We won’t leave you behind,”  he repeated, “Unless you  _ want  _ to be left.  That’s your choice, but choose carefully; I’m telling you all of this because I want you to learn from my mistakes and not to repeat them.  And Yuuri is my  _ fiancé _ ,”  Victor corrected.

 

Finally, Yuri could take no more and he looked the elder skater in the eye.  He knew what he was about to say was hurtful, but he didn’t give a shit, and that bit of maturity that sometimes appeared within him was certainly not showing up now. “You’re the only one who fucking  _ believes _ that  _ shit _ !” 

 

At that pronouncement, Victor closed his eyes.  “See?”

 

“What?!” Yuri snapped.

 

“You just proved to me that I’m right about how observant you are.”

 

No matter how ugly Yuri’s words, Victor was not getting caught up in it.  His voice was even, his demeanor was calm. Now, there was a hint of sadness in his tone that made Yuri almost regret what he said.   Yuri knew their relationship was not always the fairytale romance that their fans made it out to be. It wasn’t always the lighthearted silliness that Victor would show to the masses when he’d do something stupid and gross like kiss The Pig’s skates at the Kiss and Cry.   They were human people with human shortcomings; Lord knew that Victor had them, and he probably had even more than did The Pig who had a fuck-ton of his own.

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“It means you already understand plenty, despite not being an adult yourself.  I...understand what it means to have an absent family. Even though you are lucky enough to have your Grandfather, you understand it too.  I understand it to the point where I’ve chosen a family for myself, right down to calling Yuuri my  _ fiancé  _ despite the fact that he’s never acknowledged that with neither the question nor the answer.  Nothing is guaranteed in life, not gold medals, not loving someone forever, or being loved forever.  We won’t leave you behind, but you have free will to be left and there’s nothing I can do about that.  Yuuri and I also have free will; and I’m retiring, and maybe, if I’m lucky, he’ll actually stay with me for the rest of my life, even if I lose all my hair over caring and worrying about both of those people I treasure who, by fate, just happen to have the same name.”

 

They were fallible.

 

They were  _ mortal _ , especially in terms of their sport.

 

Logically, he knew he should understand that Victor respected him enough as an athlete to share that he was retiring with him, and that he actually said something about his family showed that respect as well.  Even if he only said that they were “absent”, that was more than he’d ever heard the man mention about it before. Yuri knew that Victor was at the end of his career, and that retiring was probably the right thing for him to do.  How many times a day did he call him Geezer? He knew it was time, just as he knew that he really wanted to bring Otabek to Hasetsu if he could. He knew it just as he knew he was scared to death that they would disappear from his life like his parents had.

 

He was scared because he did sometimes-sort-of-maybe-didn’t-mind that they looked out for him in more ways than his parents  _ ever _ had.  Otabek had been right, naturally; Victor had no obligation to look after him, and Yuuri certainly did not.  They could have easily said they were wanting some gross “couple time” and left Yuri to his 100% Denial and to have to grovel to Yakov for his passport to figure out how to meet up with his friend.  

 

He was scared that Victor and The Pig would live their happily ever after and maybe he’d only hear from them by way of a birthday card or an Instagram post with more fucking ugly sweaters and the pile of poodles he was sure they were going to acquire someday.

 

He was scared that they maybe wouldn’t remember his birthday someday.

 

Even more scary was that when the skating ended for them both, that maybe they wouldn’t last as a couple.  Yeah, he’d thought it. So fucking what?

 

Victor was trying to reassure him that they wouldn’t forget him, but Yuri wasn’t quite ready to buy what the living legend was selling, even if he knew the elder wasn’t being fake about this. 

That Victor was retiring was something Yuri wished he didn’t know.

 

But he did know it now.  He understood. He hated knowing it.  Fine. He’ll deal with it in his own way.  He’ll come up with his own plan. He didn’t need Victor.   “Can I get out of the car now?” he asked quietly.

 

“Yuri-”

 

Shit.  Shit! He didn’t want Victor to leave him.  That Idiot! Doesn’t he know that?! Fuck him.

 

“I get it.  I  _ get it, _ okay?”

 

“I’m announcing it at the end of the season in a couple of weeks.  After that, the attention and the press will be focused on you, but I’ll help you.  I’ll always help you, for as long as you need or want me to.”

 

Oh. 

 

Oh.

 

“Okay.”

 

“I know you’ll continue to be amazing, Yura.”

 

Yuri didn’t say anything more as he got out of the car, still reeling from the news, but understanding it all the same.  And Victor hadn’t called him “Yura” in forever, not since he was in the novice class. 

 

He didn’t...not like it.

 

And, even though he slammed the car door and was biting back tears that appeared for no damn reason, and even though he’d employ more 100% Denial it if anyone ever asked, Yuri knew that if he ever really found himself in need of anything, that Embarrassing Idiot would be the first person he’d call.

 

fin.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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